


anchor step

by ailurea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dance partners, M/M, Mutual Pining, Swing Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea/pseuds/ailurea
Summary: When Shiro's long-time partner—in life and in dance—exits his life, it's like all of Shiro's joy goes with him.But then he meets Keith, who's fire and beauty and grace rolled into one, and when they dance together, Shiro's reminded of all the reasons that he ever loved dance in the first place.When Adam tells Shiro that he'll be competing with a new partner, it's pride that makes Shiro lie. It's desperation that makes him ask Keith to be his partner. (It's love at first sight that makes Keith say yes.)
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 113
Kudos: 280
Collections: Sheith Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2019 sheith big bang ♥  
> check out [the awesome artwork by catsafangirl on twitter](https://twitter.com/catsafangirl/status/1212073839653355520?s=20)! thanks so much for your patience cat! ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **[featured songs]** [(fic playlist)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0bnB893HUoqu2eEFMqJrzf?si=KpsdlExMQMymOmnatBsXOQ)  
> sad song (feat. elena coats) — we the kings, elena coats  
> moondust - stripped; ep version — jaymes young

_Without you, I feel broke  
Like I’m half of a whole  
Without you, I’ve got no hand to hold  
Without you, I feel torn  
Like a sail in a storm  
Without you, I’m just a sad song_

Shiro yanks the speaker’s plug from the living room wall. It drops to the ground with a clatter as he turns and walks back to his desk.

“I was listening to that,” Matt calls after him, but Shiro doesn’t hear him making any attempt to plug it back in. Instead, he keeps grumbling on the couch. “I thought you liked that song.”

“Not really in the mood right now,” Shiro says as he sits down. He clicks his pen again and focuses on finishing the letter he’s writing.

— _and I hope you’ll enjoy your years at the Galaxy Garrison. They go by quickly, so make the most of them!_

_Sincerely,  
Takashi Shirogane_

The words sound as insincerely cheerful as he feels.

“It’s not actually a sad song, you know.”

“Matt.” Shiro puts down his pen with more force than necessary. Plastic and wood isn’t a dramatic combination, and it makes a disappointing sound against the table that somehow frustrates Shiro even more. “I’m not in the mood. What are you even doing here? I told you the key was for emergencies only.”

“You haven’t been seen in public ever since you announced your breakup with Adam,” Matt says. “Sounds like an emergency to me.”

“I’ve been outside.” Shiro digs into the cardboard box of Galaxy Garrison-branded merchandise he has sitting on his table. “I’ve been doing privates for a couple weeks now.”

“In public, I said. Privates are, like, the opposite of that. And also I’ve heard you’ve been doing them at The Castle? What happened to Black Lion?”

Shiro ignores him, instead busying himself with the welcome package he’s making for his scholarship recipient. He scrawls _go, be great_ on the Garrison bookmark in thick black Sharpie, and then signs his initials on the back of the acrylic charm of the Garrison logo.

It all seems ridiculous to him, but the Garrison insists that he’s still well-respected on campus and beyond, and that his scholarship recipients would be beyond thrilled to have something with his signature on it. Personally, Shiro’s pretty sure the scholarship money is the most exciting part of it, since his money is specifically marked for students who don’t have the financial means of attending otherwise, but what does he know.

His relationship with the Garrison’s been professionally distant after the failure of the Kerberos mission five years ago.

Matt announces his impatience by stepping in front of Shiro, leaning with his hip against the desk. “Look, Shiro. You’ve spent the last, what, five years of your life dancing? And now you haven’t been on the floor in months. We’re all worried about you. I’m worried about you. Especially because—”

“Matt,” Shiro says, more gently this time. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” He seals the envelope shut with a firm sweep of his fingers and hands it to Matt. “Take it over for me?”

Matt hesitates for just a second before he takes the envelope. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Shiro knows he’s not just talking about now.

“It’s not your fault,” Shiro says. “It’s not anyone’s fault. Everyone’s just doing the best they can.”

“Bullshit,” Matt says. 

“Seen any alien transmissions lately?” Shiro says.

“I would’ve told you if we had.”

Shiro shrugs. “Nothing we can do then.”

That was the deal—no evidence, no discussion of aliens.

 _We’ve all heard your stories, but unfortunately, without evidence, we can’t move forward with this as the public documentation of events._ Iverson was gentle, but firm. _Shiro, you have to know how this sounds._

Shiro knows how it sounds, which is why he understands the cover-up that followed.

“It’s still bullshit,” Matt says. “And Adam’s bullshit. You’re better off without him.”

Shiro’s at the point where he can recognize that that’s true. The arguments had been simmering for years, and Shiro’d seen the steam rising. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t expected it to boil over.

Doesn’t mean the burns hurt any less.

“I just need time,” Shiro says, looking down at the table so he doesn’t have to look at Matt.

“Not to be a dick, but you’ve had time,” Matt says. “Shiro, you’ve been hiding in here for six months. It’s not helping. You need to try doing things that make you happy again.”

The problem is that nothing makes him happy.

Dancing was what had pulled him out of the depths, five years ago, but he has the sinking feeling that it won’t work now. Then, dancing was a new thrill in his life, where he could remake himself in ways he never had the freedom to before. Now, it’s burdened by five years of memories and experiences and expectations, and he doesn’t want to go because he doesn’t want to know.

He’d worked for most of his life to become a pilot, only to have that joy stripped from him. He doesn’t want to find out if he’s lost the joy in dancing, too.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says, helplessly. “Black Lion’s just going to have to survive without me.”

“It’s your venue,” Matt says. “It might survive, but it won’t be the same. This is your life, man.”

“Like flying was my life?” It escapes Shiro before he can stop it.

“This is different,” Matt says. “You can’t just hijack a Garrison ship—I mean, you could, but you shouldn’t. But you have total control here. What is it you told that freshie? You can’t give up on yourself?”

“If you’re going to quote me at myself, you should at least do it right,” Shiro says.

“I’m not giving up on you, Shiro,” Matt says, solemnly, “so you better not give up on yourself, you hear me?”

Shiro smiles, touched despite himself. “That was closer.”

“No one is going to think any less of you, you know,” Matt says. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s more the—” Shiro cuts himself off and makes a vague gesture. He doesn’t know how to articulate it properly. “I don’t know, the same kind of thing that made it hard to go back to the Garrison. Just having them looking at me and pitying me like they know exactly what’s going on when they don’t even know the half of it.”

Matt’s quiet for a moment. Then he says, “What if they didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t look at you like that,” Matt says. “Didn’t know you at all, even. What if you could dance somewhere where no one knows you or has any expectations of you?”

“If you can find one West Coast venue that has no idea who I am, I’ll eat my shoe.” Shiro’s not arrogant, but he’s taken home awards five years straight, rocketing to all-star levels in a blink. The West Coast Swing community is small enough that, if someone’s running a dance, they’ve heard of Takashi Shirogane. It’s how it is.

“What if you didn’t do West Coast?” Matt says.

He should have guessed Matt would try to go this direction. “You know I’m not into Standard.”

“Standard is classy as hell and you’re missing out,” Matt says. “But I was thinking something a little closer to home. You know Pidge does fusion?”

Shiro hesitates. Blues fusion isn’t a terrible thought—it’s the most unstructured of the styles, but that means you can bring in your own style, so it wouldn’t matter that he doesn’t have much experience in it specifically. And he likes the music well enough.

It’s different enough from West Coast—in music, in community, in style—that it might be good to try it. It might help free him from everything that’s been weighing him down for six months.

But what if it doesn’t? What if he hates it? What if he fails?

Matt latches on to his hesitation. “Just try it once. If you don’t like it then we never have to go again. I just think it could be good for you to start getting out there again, even if it’s not your usual. Work up to it, you know?”

Shiro rolls the pen on the table—back and forth, back and forth. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Matt says. “You go and dance one single three-minute dance, and I stop bugging you about going out again. Doesn’t matter if you decide to head home after one dance or if you decide to go back again every week. You won’t hear a thing from me.”

Shiro laughs. It sounds tired even to his own ears. “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“You love to dance,” Matt says quietly. “It made you happy when I thought I’d never see you smile again. Give it another chance. If not for me, then for yourself.”

He’s so sincere, and guilt crawls up Shiro’s stomach. He sets the pen down. “All right,” he says. “One dance. When is it? Friday?”

“Um, about that,” Matt says, and the tone is apologetic but his smile is not. “It’s tonight. Surprise!”

Shiro stares at him. “Seriously?”

“What better time than now, when you’ve already psyched yourself up!” Matt says. “I wanted to get you to agree to go to the lesson but, well, you probably don’t even need it anyway, so this works out!”

Shiro just sighs. It’s not worth being annoyed about this, not when all he’s promised is a dance. One night out is far from the worst thing to happen to him. “All right. Let’s go see Pidge.”

Matt grins and pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you get the full Holt welcome.”

* * *

Marmora Dance Studio is stuffed into the corner of an industrial complex next to a commercial printing shop, which is about where Shiro would expect to find a dance venue.

Shiro looks around while Matt signs them in and pays the cover.

It’s a smaller space than Black Lion on the inside, and the air conditioning situation seems less put-together—the door’s propped open, and there’s a fan in each corner. Folding chairs surround the open space of the dance floor, and at one end of the room is a small stage where the DJ equipment is set up. The only lighting is the dim orange glow of the lamps attached to the walls. 

The music playing is slow and bluesy, with a beat that reverberates in his chest, and Shiro scans over the dancing pairs with a practiced, impartial eye, picking out the _just-started-today_ s from the _I-swing-by-when-I-can_ s and the _I-close-out-the-night_ s.

Shiro used to be one of the latter, staying out until the DJ decided to head home—which usually meant staying out past midnight. It’s not something everyone wants to or even can do, especially if they have a day job. Which most of them do. Which Adam wanted him to have.

But he’s not thinking about Adam right now.

It doesn’t take Shiro long to spot Pidge, instantly recognizable by her height and her lime green shirt. It’s been a while since he’s seen her; even longer since he’s seen her dance. She seems to be leading this time, directing her freckled blonde partner into a series of turns.

Pidge must be coming out quite a bit. Her dancing’s improved by lightyears.

“All set,” Matt says, tucking his wallet back into his pocket as he comes up beside Shiro, and together they find a couple of free chairs to sit on while they change their shoes.

Shiro looks over the crowd again once his dance shoes are on and his street shoes are safely tucked under the chair. 

Aside from the mix of proficiencies, there’s a real mix of styles here. Some are dancing very close; others are maintaining distance. Some are bringing in more of a Latin flair; others are clearly rooted in big band swing.

His gaze catches on a man in a red tank top with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail dancing closely with a woman with short blue hair. They’re not doing anything fancy, just pulsing and swaying and moving with the beat, but their eyes are closed, and they seem perfectly in sync with each other and the music, and Shiro can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

It takes a good dancer, Shiro knows, to make the most basic of moves shine the brightest. Around them, pairs are performing more intricate sequences, but again and again Shiro’s eyes are drawn back to the couple—and watching the way they move, they must be a couple. Shiro could swear they were tuned into each other’s heartbeat.

He feels a pang of longing so acute it makes his eyes brim with tears, and he has to look away just to calm himself down. He knows firsthand that the best dances bring with them a physical and emotional connection just as intimate and thrilling as sex, and the want hurts.

When’s the last time he felt that kind of closeness?

A bit masochistically, Shiro watches them finish out the dance. The man dips his partner low as the song enters its final measures, and when they straighten up and settle is when their eyes finally open. The man smiles and says something to his partner, then he glances up and happens to lock eyes with Shiro.

Shiro turns towards Matt without really thinking about it. He’s not sure why. It’s not like it’s weird for people sitting out to watch others dance, and with the way that man dances, Shiro’s sure he has an audience every time.

Matt’s not paying any attention, already standing and waving someone over. Shiro stands too as Pidge barrels over to them.

“Pidge!” Matt cheers, squishing her in a hug.

She squirrels out of his hold. “Hey, I’ve got a reputation to maintain here.” But, in the next breath, she has her arms wrapped around Shiro, hugging tight. “I’m really happy to see you.”

Shiro smiles at her. “You’re looking good out there.”

Pidge grins. “I learned from the best!”

Shiro raises his eyebrows at Matt.

“Yeah, no,” Matt says. “I suck. She says I’m too rigid or whatever.”

“That’s because you do Standard,” Shiro and Pidge say at the same time. Pidge hoots and holds her hand up for a high-five while Matt shakes his head.

“I can’t believe you’re disparaging Standard like this,” he says. “I’m telling Allura.”

Shiro snorts. “Go ahead.” Allura regularly wrinkles her nose at swing dancing; she doesn’t have much room to protest if he jabs at her favorite in return.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Pidge says, eyebrows furrowing as she scans the room, “but I have no idea where he—oh, there he is. Keith!”

It’s the man Shiro was watching on the dance floor, now partnerless and holding a giant steel water bottle with a Garrison sticker on it. He looks at Shiro curiously as he walks over and bumps Pidge’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey, you,” Pidge says, hugging him quickly. “So, you know Matt already. And this is the friend I was telling you about, Shiro.”

“Good to meet you,” Keith says, shaking Shiro’s hand firmly. “Pidge says you haven’t really done this before?”

Shiro’s about to clarify that he hasn’t really done _fusion_ before, but Pidge speaks up first.

“Keith is an awesome dancer, and he’s really good with beginners,” Pidge says. “He said he’s totally down to dance with you, if you’re up for it?”

The full Holt welcome, huh?

Shiro suppresses a sigh and gives Keith a tight smile. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks for doing this.”

Keith smiles at him, warm and sincere, and Shiro’s heart stops for a brief moment. “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.” He holds his hand out, palm out. It’s his left hand, waiting for Shiro's right.

Honestly, Shiro had forgotten about this. The nice thing about dancing in a scene where everyone knows of you is that everyone knows of you. It’s been a long time since Shiro’s had to worry about this particular thing.

He hesitates, just for a moment, before placing his hand in Keith’s. He’s already considering which abbreviated explanation to give, but Keith gives no indication of even noticing the hand isn’t flesh, and after a quick wave to Matt and Pidge, guides Shiro out to the dance floor.

“This song’s almost over, so we can just wait it out,” Keith says.

He tugs Shiro into a closed position, Shiro’s right hand resting on his left, and his right hand pressing lightly over Shiro’s shoulder blade. Shiro rests his other hand on top of Keith’s shoulder. Keith is shorter than him by a full head, but he doesn’t acknowledge that, either. He guides him into a bit of a crouch—a lower position than the upright stance of West Coast—and they start pulsing side to side with the music.

Keith hums. The pressure of his hand against Shiro’s shoulder blade is steady. “You don’t feel like a total beginner.”

“Just at this,” Shiro says. “I usually dance West Coast.”

“That explains it,” Keith says. His movements grow larger, and Shiro follows as the side-to-side pulses turn into steps. “You usually lead, too?”

Shiro laughs. “I don’t really have the physique to be following.”

Keith’s lips quirk. “Really. Who told you that?”

Shiro shrugs. Everyone, really—between his height and the span of his shoulders, he was pretty much always pegged as a lead.

“It’s okay,” Keith says. “I’ve got you.”

The song ends, and a new one starts with a gentle strumming of guitars. Keith goes back to the little pulsing motions, altering the rhythm of it to fit the new song. Then he guides them to the steps—step, pulse; step, pulse.

_I’m building this house on the moon  
Like a lost astronaut  
Looking at you like a star  
From a place the world forgot_

“Relax,” Keith murmurs. “We’re just stepping.”

“You’re not gonna call me rigid, are you?” Shiro says.

Keith smiles. “Nah. At least you’ve got good connection.”

He leads them to step in a circle. Shiro, distracted by trying to keep something of a rhythm and count, shuffles his way through it.

Keith guides them into an open position, where he has Shiro’s hands and they’re an arm’s length apart, and they do the basics again—step, pulse; step, pulse. Despite the height difference, he manages to lead Shiro into a turn, and ends with them back in closed.

“I can hear you trying to figure this out,” Keith says. “Stop it.”

“Stop… trying to learn this?”

“You can dance,” Keith says. “You already know everything you need to know for this. So just relax. Close your eyes.”

Shiro laughs. “I can’t even dance with my eyes open right now.”

“It’ll be easier,” Keith says. “I won’t bump you into anyone.”

That’s a concern, yeah, but the bigger one is that Shiro isn’t ready to fail again, not in front of so many people, not so soon.

But no one here knows him.

That’s the point of it, right? People are still watching, he’s sure, just because he’s dancing with Keith, but they’re not looking at him, specifically; not watching for his fall from grace the same way they watched his fall from the atmosphere.

And if he closes his eyes, he can pretend that they aren’t there, either.

The world is dark, and his senses focus in on the gentle firmness of Keith’s hands on his. 

Step, pulse; step, pulse.

The quiet chatter of the people fade away, and the music takes over, rhythmic guitar and a heartbroken voice.

_Nothing can breathe in the space  
Colder than the darkest sea  
I have dreams about the days driving through your sunset breeze_

Shiro’s steps falter. He’s not actually sure he wants to hear the lyrics anymore.

He feels the pressure of Keith’s hand on his shoulder blade guiding him forward, into a sequence of steps and turns that distracts him for a moment from the music. He’s not sure where he ends up, exactly, but he feels the exhilaration, the sparking sense of pride at the end of it for being able to give Keith exactly what he was asking for without having to say a word. The connection thrums in his veins, heady and rich.

God, he’d forgotten what it was like to follow.

Keith draws him close again as the beat fades away, and moves them freely with the flow of the melody. Shiro stops counting and breathes with it.

_I’m a castaway and men reap what they sow  
And I say what I know to be true  
Yeah, I’m living far away on the face of the moon  
I’ve buried my love to give the world to you_

“You okay?” Keith says.

Shiro takes stock of himself, and relaxes his death grip on Keith’s shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” Keith continues with his easy movements. The pace of the music is slow, but his movements alternate between drawn-out and quick, a frantic desperation mixed in with the despair of the song, and Shiro matches every breath, every tremble.

Keith is more than just in tune with the movements. He’s in tune with the music, the lyrics, the soul of the dance, and reacting to it in a way that fusion uniquely allows. And Shiro is helplessly tuned to him.

_I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice  
To bury my love in the moondust_

Keith doesn’t move to dip him, which Shiro is grateful for—he’s not sure he’s prepared, and he’s definitely not sure Keith is prepared to support his weight. They end with him holding Shiro close, swaying to the last notes of the song.

_I’ve buried my love in the moondust_

They hover for a moment, just breathing as the guitar fades. Shiro blinks his eyes open and finds Keith studying him quietly, something heavy in his gaze. They’re still gently swaying. Then the next song starts, and Keith is leading him off the floor to the chairs on the side. Shiro glances around, but he can’t spot Matt or Pidge.

“Thanks for the dance,” Keith says. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his black joggers. “You’re really good. Been dancing for a while?”

“Ah, yeah.” Shiro clears his throat. The atmosphere of the dance still weighs on him, and he shifts to dispel it. “Six years, give or take. Mainly swing. Some competitions, so.”

“Wow,” Keith says. “No wonder.”

He’s small and warm, tucked up against Shiro’s side so that they can hear each other speaking over the music.

“You’re pretty good yourself,” Shiro says.

“About four years,” Keith says, answering the implicit question. “Not really into competing, though. I started in swing, but then I found fusion. I go to some other dances, sometimes, but…”

“Mainly to make your fusion better?” Shiro smiles. “Yeah, I get that. How’d you get into dancing?”

Keith’s quiet for a moment before answering. “Needed to get out of my head,” he says. “A, uh, a friend recommended it to me, so I gave it a try.”

“Guessing it worked.”

Keith laughs, and Shiro’s heart pounds dramatically. “Yeah, it did. Better than I expected. Can’t really imagine my life without it, now.”

It reminds Shiro of himself. Before Kerberos, dancing was something he did occasionally, for fun. After, Adam had taken him just to get him out of the house and doing something again. And then Shiro kept going and going and going because, for the first time since Kerberos, he’d felt alive again.

That feeling had started to fade, the same time Adam did.

Now, with the memory of Keith’s hands tingling against his skin, the connection that Shiro can still feel vibrating between them, he’s starting to remember the thrill of it again.

“You gonna stick around?” Keith says.

One dance was all Shiro promised. If he stays for more, Matt’s going to be smug as all hell, but he thinks he can live with that—has to, because, looking into Keith’s eyes, he knows there’s only one answer he can give.

“Yeah,” Shiro says. “Yeah, I think I am.”

* * *

“So,” Matt says. The streets whiz by them in a blur on the way back to Shiro’s apartment. “Seems like you had fun.”

Shiro shrugs. “You were right. It’s nice dancing again.”

“Uh-huh.” Matt glances over at him. “And what about Keith?”

“What about him?”

“What’d you think?”

“He’s a good dancer,” Shiro says. “He’s nice.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?” Yes, Keith’s great to dance with, and easy to talk to. He’s kind, though a bit intense, and yes, Shiro finds him attractive, but he’s not going to go out of his way to see him again.

He can’t.

“He likes you, you know.”

Shiro stares at him. “Who, Keith?”

“He takes a while to warm up to people. Pidge says he almost never dances with anyone more than once the first time he meets them, but he was checking in on you all night.”

“He was just being friendly.”

“Keith’s not friendly,” Matt says, then amends, “Well, not like that, anyways. Trust me. He really likes you.”

Shiro’s heart gives an involuntary flutter in his chest at that. He doesn’t set it free. “It’s not happening.”

“Too soon?”

“Too soon,” Shiro says. He thinks it will always be too soon.

“We never really talked that much about Adam,” Matt says, carefully, but not carefully enough.

Shiro seriously contemplates throwing himself out of the car. It doesn’t matter that they’re on the freeway. It’ll probably hurt less than this conversation. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Just let me say one thing,” Matt says. “You don’t even have to say anything back. Just one thing. Please.”

Shiro sees the ETA on the GPS grow by a minute and suspects that Matt’s driving slower. He contemplates the car door again.

“Shiro.”

“One thing,” Shiro says. “Then you’re not bringing him up again. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Matt says. “Look, Shiro, dancing is your life now. Everyone who knows you knows that. It wasn’t fair for him to make you feel like that wasn’t okay, and it definitely wasn’t fair for him to make you choose. You deserve better than that. And you’ll find better.”

“Are you done?”

“I’m done.”

Shiro should be grateful, he thinks. Matt’s just trying to help him move on.

But Shiro already knows he isn’t in the wrong here. He isn’t guilty; he’s sad and lonely and tired. And he refuses to thank Matt for cornering him in a vehicle and making him talk about this right now.

“I’m over him,” Shiro says, “and I’m not looking for anyone else right now.”

“I’m not telling you to start looking for someone right away or anything,” Matt says. “Just be okay with getting to know people a bit, you know? Make some new friends. No pressure.”

Matt’s speaking in the general, but Shiro knows what he’s trying to imply.

“You just said Keith likes me,” Shiro says. “That’s pressure. I’m not going to lead him on.”

“But if it’s possible—”

“Matt,” Shiro says. “Don’t think I didn’t see his Garrison bottle. If I’m going to move on with anyone, it’s not going to be someone from the Garrison again. You’ve said your piece, all right? Let it go.”

Matt huffs. “Fine. But if you had fun, you can still come dance. Keep it casual.”

Shiro did have fun, and he does want to dance again, but it’s not going to be at Marmora. He knows better than to tempt himself.

And also—he isn’t letting Matt off that easily.

“You know, this sounds a lot like you’re trying to get me to go out,” Shiro says. “What was our deal again? Someone seems to have forgotten.”

“Ugh,” Matt groans, long-suffering. “Fine. I’m a man of my word. It just sucks, you know? I see you being actually happy for the first time in forever, but you don’t even want to try.”

Shiro laughs and gives in. “Who says I’m not trying? I’ve already decided to go back next week.”

Matt perks up. “Back to Marmora?”

“No,” Shiro says. The image of the ballroom he’d danced in almost every day for the past few years flashes through his mind. “Back to the Black Lion.”

It’s time to go home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **[featured songs]** [(fic playlist)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0bnB893HUoqu2eEFMqJrzf?si=KpsdlExMQMymOmnatBsXOQ)  
> whatever it takes — imagine dragons

Shiro steps into the Black Lion Ballroom, and it’s like he’d never left.

It’s still early in the night; the dance floor is mostly junior dancers who came early for the lesson and are now trying their new skills on the dance floor. Soon, they’ll grow tired and leave. Some will come back every week, staying longer and longer until maybe one day they’ll join the slim group of people dancing until the music stops. Others will come casually through the years, progressing enough to become good, but without the dedication to become excellent. And many, many others will taper off, never to be seen again.

Shiro’s seen them all. Taught them all. He’s still friendly enough to new faces, but he doesn’t bond with them, not really, not until he’s sure they won’t disappear. He only has the emotional energy for so much.

Matt detaches from his side to go say hi to other people he knows. They used to dance swing together, before Matt defected to the dark (Standard) side. He’s only here for moral support, and to be the driver so that Shiro can’t run off too quickly. (He denies the latter. Shiro knows it’s true.)

James Griffin is in the corner, next to Ryan Kinkade’s DJ setup. Shiro had entrusted James with organizing the dance the week Shiro and Adam went off for competition. Then, everything else happened. James has been putting it on ever since.

He’s done a good job, Shiro thinks. The dance goes on every week, like clockwork. The last dance of the month is still a special theme night. The Facebook page is still active, with new photos and clips posted from each dance, courtesy of Ryan.

Shiro’s proud of the responsibility that James has taken on, and taken on well, but the ache in his chest grows without him letting it.

Life moves on without him.

James catches his eye and waves at him from across the room, and Shiro waves back. He weaves his way over, exchanging brief greetings with other regulars along the way.

“Good to see you,” Shiro says to James when he finally gets to the DJ corner. “You too, Ryan. It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Shiro.” Ryan gives him a handshake-fistbump combo that leads into a hug. “Long time no see. We’ve been missing you out here.”

“Seems like you’ve all got it pretty much under control,” Shiro says as he does the same with James. “You probably don’t even need me anymore.”

“No way,” James says, thumping his shoulder. “It hasn’t been the same without you at all. I’m really glad you’re back. Nadia’s going back to school and I had no idea who I was going to get to do advanced lessons.”

“He was worried he was gonna have to call in his ex-boyfriend,” Ryan says, and it’s clear he’s just ribbing James, but then he pauses and turns a concerned look on Shiro. “Uh. Not that there’s anything wrong with ex-boyfriends. Unless there is.”

Shiro smiles, wan. “It’s fine.”

“Just so you know, he started coming back a few weeks ago.” James lowers his voice, cautious of the dancers milling around, curious gazes trained on Shiro. “I mean, we don’t talk much. But I think he’s got a new guy.”

Shiro’s over it. He is. They weren’t good for each other. Their lives were on different paths. This was best for both of them. 

But Adam’s here, with someone new.

Adam’s dancing, with someone new.

It doesn’t matter. Shiro inhales, exhales. Pastes on a smile. “I’m glad he’s dancing again.”

James and Ryan look at him with varying levels of disbelief, but Shiro really is glad. He’d felt for years like he was just dragging Adam along. He’d always look like he was having fun, but Shiro couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more of a chore for him. Shiro thought that after their split, Adam wouldn’t set foot on a dance floor again.

So he’s glad he was wrong. He loves to dance, and he loves to see others enjoy it, too. He’s a little less glad that Adam’s doing it here, in Shiro’s dance studio that he’d been against Shiro opening in the first place, but the next-closest West Coast dance is the Garrison and the next-closest from that is an hour out, so it’s not as though Shiro doesn’t understand why.

James and Ryan seem significantly less understanding. But again, Shiro’s not really in the mood to talk about it. “What’s this about your ex, Griffin?”

“Let’s make a deal,” James says quickly. “No exes talk. Cool.” He’s rushing away from the corner before Shiro can respond.

“The one that got away,” Ryan says. “I think it was mutual, but James was kind of an ass a few years ago so I wouldn’t be surprised if he blames himself. They’ve both grown up now, but, well… that means their lives are a lot different now, too. He regrets it sometimes.”

“His ex still dances, though?” Shiro says. “Can’t be too different, then.”

Ryan pauses a moment too long, and Shiro knows he’s thinking of another couple that danced together and didn’t stay together.

“Fair point,” Shiro says wryly.

“Speaking of,” Ryan says, and nods towards the entrance.

Shiro glances up, and then away before he sees much more than Adam’s familiar mop of hair and easy smile. It shouldn’t hurt to see Adam walking through the door with someone new. He’s over it. He doesn’t want Adam to see him and come over. He doesn’t want Adam to talk to him.

He doesn’t.

He resolutely looks towards Ryan’s screen. “What else is in your playlist tonight? Anything new?”

Ryan looks at him for a moment, but only for a moment. If there’s something Ryan’s good at, it’s taking a cue. “Yeah, some new stuff popped up while you were out. There’s some I think you’ll really like, actually.”

He pulls out his phone and earbuds and hands them to Shiro.

Shiro listens to the first new song. Ryan’s right, it’s definitely the kind of song he likes, with fun lyrics and instrumentals his limbs are twitching to play with. He’s got steps pictured in his mind, and he initially slots Adam in, but no—no—anyone else. Keith slots into Adam’s place instead, which makes Shiro a bit uneasy, but it makes sense, since he’s the last person Shiro danced with.

He’s listened to a couple more songs before the inevitable happens.

“Takashi?”

Shiro looks up from the laptop. It’s like his neck is rusted—that’s how much energy it takes to turn his head. “Hey, Adam,” he says, lowering the earbud. The music in the ballroom fills his ears—the song’s just changed, which must be why Adam is here.

_Falling too fast to prepare for this  
Tripping in the world could be dangerous  
Everybody circling is vulturous  
Negative, nepotist_

Adam, is, mercifully, alone.

“Uh, I’ll give you guys a minute.” Ryan taps a few keys on his keyboard, queuing up the next song, and takes off from the DJ corner before Shiro can stop him without making things awkward.

“Hey,” Adam says. His eyes flick over Shiro’s face, his clothes, and Shiro bears it silently. He’s glad he’s made an effort today, but there are still lines of guilt on Adam’s face.

Shiro can’t be happy about it.

_Whip, whip  
Run me like a racehorse  
Pull me like a ripcord  
Break me down and build me up_

“How are you?” Adam says.

“Fine,” Shiro says. “Busy.”

“I noticed you haven’t been around,” Adam says. “Surprising, considering… well. Have you been doing well?”

“Yeah, I have.” Shiro clenches his left fist under the table and tries to let the bite of his fingernails distract him from the awkwardness. It didn’t occur to him that Adam would keep coming here.

How sad does it look, that they’d broken up because Shiro told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to give up on dancing and the Black Lion, and Adam had apparently watched him spend six months without either?

“What about you?” Shiro says, stiffly.

“I’m good,” Adam says. He hesitates, then says, “Listen, before you hear it from someone else… I’m seeing someone. We came together.”

“Congratulations,” Shiro says, and he’s proud of how toneless he sounds. He can’t imagine any actual inflection that came out of him would be a good one. “It’s nice that he dances.”

“Yeah,” Adam says. There’s a hesitancy in his voice, a cautiousness that wasn’t there before. Like he’s tiptoeing around the debris he left when he burst out of Shiro’s life.

It is very, very close to pissing Shiro off.

He can count the number of times he’s lost his temper on one hand. But he’s too close with Adam, and Adam can push all the buttons he pretends not to have.

“He’s a good dancer,” Adam says. “Better than me. We’re competing in Strictly at the Garrison City Swingtacular in May.”

Shiro can tell from Adam’s voice that Adam’s not trying to brag, that he’s honestly just saying it to keep Shiro informed about the situation.

But it hurts.

It hurts.

He and Adam used to compete. And it used to be an internal competition every time—about how conventions, how dancing, were more important than their relationship. How dancing wasn’t actually a real job that anyone could actually support himself with, and how _Shiro, you can’t ignore reality forever_.

_Looking at my years like a martyrdom  
Everybody needs to be a part of them  
Never be enough, I’m the prodigal son  
I was born to run, I was born for this_

Shiro clenches his fist more tightly. “That’s great,” he says, fighting to keep his voice evenly pleasant. And then, from the pettiness inside him comes, “I’ll see you there.”

“You’re—” Adam stares at him. “You’re going?”

“Of course,” Shiro says, and he has to work not to grit his teeth. “Haven’t missed one in five years.”

“That’s true,” Adam says slowly, some of the surprise fading. “You aren’t competing, though, are you?”

“I am,” Shiro says. Logic tells him this is a lie he can’t come back from. Emotion tells him that he needs to say this, needs to prove to Adam that he’s fine—no, not just fine. He’s better.

He’s better, now that he’s free.

_Whatever it takes  
Yeah take me to the top, I’m ready for  
Whatever it takes  
Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins_

“Just Jack and Jill, right?” Adam says, and Shiro knows that he shouldn’t say what he says next, but does Adam really think he can walk in here with a new partner and assume that the only way Shiro can have one is to be assigned one?

“I have a new partner,” Shiro says. “He’s great. Really fun. I think you’ll like him.”

“You—I see,” Adam says, looking gratifyingly, completely stunned. He surveys the dance floor, as if he could pick out Shiro’s type from the crowd. “Is he here?”

_Hypocritical, egotistical  
Don’t wanna be the parenthetical, hypothetical  
Working hard on something that I’m proud of, out of the box  
An epoxy to the world and the vision we’ve lost_

“Not tonight,” Shiro says, and he’s not going to be able to see the sun anymore from the hole that he’s buried himself in. It’s worth it. “He’s shy.”

“Shy,” Adam repeats. “Are you sure he’ll be okay competing, if he’s shy and he doesn’t even come to the weekly?”

He knows Adam well enough to know that he isn’t trying to be rude; he’s sincerely showing concern for Shiro’s fake partner. It pisses Shiro off anyways, if only because Adam had always accused him of pushing too hard, too far, too fast. Shiro takes in a breath, but Adam holds up his hands defensively before he can say anything.

“Sorry, that was out of line,” Adam says, and sighs. “It’s not any of my business. I’m just worried for you. And for him. I hope you’re not rushing into things.”

“I hope you’re not, either,” Shiro says.

“That’s fair,” Adam says, his expression not changing.

_Whatever it takes  
Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins  
I do whatever it takes  
Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains_

Around them, people are hovering—people who know him, and Adam, and of the messy situation that unfolded between them half a year ago. And in ten seconds the music is going to fade.

Adam takes a step back from the DJ corner. “It was good to see you, Takashi. I hope you’ll come by more often.”

“Bye, Adam.”

_I do what it takes_

He drums his fingers on the table and stares at the laptop as the song ends. Thankfully, everyone catches onto his mood and no one tries to talk to him, or ask him to dance, though Ryan looks a little sheepish as he returns to his spot behind his computer.

“I caught the end of that,” he says, apology in his voice.

“You weren’t the only one,” Shiro says.

Ryan nods, considering Shiro carefully. “Your new dance partner…”

“Doesn’t exist,” Shiro confirms. “I’m probably going to have to admit that I lied.” He stands and pats Ryan on the back. “But for now, I’m gonna dance.”

Shiro needs to dance—if not to prove to Adam that he really is back in this, then at least to burn off all this nervous energy thrumming under his skin.

He holds his hand out to Ryan. “Care for a spin?”

Ryan stands and puts his hand in Shiro’s. “You gonna be okay?”

Shiro smiles, crooked. “Guess we'll find out.”

* * *

The first dance leads to another leads to another, and Shiro’s already had to change his shirt twice to avoid dripping puddles of sweat when Matt drags him into a corner of the studio behind a potted plant.

Shiro fans himself with his shirt. “Couldn’t you have picked a spot by the fans?”

“No,” Matt says. “What’s this I hear about you having a hot new dance partner?”

“Word gets around fast.” Shiro should’ve expected it. The dance community is, unfortunately, full of busybodies and gossips.

“You don’t show up to dance for months and then suddenly you’re competing again?” Matt says. “Of course people are gonna talk. Everyone thought you’d be out for the year. I had to drag you off your couch last week. When the hell did you have time to find someone?”

Shiro shrugs.

Matt deflates. “You didn’t find someone,” he says, “because you don’t actually have a dance partner, do you.”

“I’ll just let it die down and then drop out,” Shiro says. Another mark of failure in his life, but what’s new. “It’s not like anyone’s actually expecting me to follow through anyways.”

“You could do that,” Matt says, in a voice that sounds like he has other ideas.

Shiro raises his eyebrows.

“Hear me out,” Matt says. “Keith—”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish what I was saying!”

“You were about to suggest that I ask Keith to be my dance partner,” Shiro says.

“And why is that such a bad idea?” Matt says.

“I’ve only met him once,” Shiro says. “I don’t have any way of contacting him. I don’t know if he even dances West Coast. And even if he does, I doubt he’s going to want to compete at the all-star level, seeing as he’s told me he doesn’t like competing in general. And I don’t even know if they’d let him, since he doesn’t have the points for it.”

“C’mon man, you’re you,” Matt says. “They’ll totally make excuses for you. Just send them a practice video or something.”

“And everything else?” Shiro says.

Matt shrugs. “It’s in December or something?”

“Fifteenth,” Shiro says. It’s been marked in his calendar since the date was announced; his Classic routine for it with Adam already in the works. All for nothing.

“Yeah, that’s like six months out,” Matt says. “You think he’s a good dancer in general, right? It can’t be too hard for him to pick up West Coast, especially if you’re leading. I’m telling you, Shiro, he likes you.”

“He—” Shiro cuts himself off as someone comes up, asking him to dance, and he smiles politely and waves them off.

He lowers his voice and leans in closer to Matt. “Look, aside from the fact that I already told you I’m not interested, if there’s anything I’ve learned from Adam, it’s that it won’t work out if we have different goals. Keith’s not a dancer, Matt. It’s his hobby, not his life. He’s not going to see things the same way that I do, and that’s fine. But if I’m going to get a new dance partner, they’re going to have to be as committed to this as I am. And that’s not Keith, is it?”

It’s harsh, Shiro knows, but he’s tired. He’s had his time with Adam. He can’t handle another.

“I get that,” Matt says. “Really, I do. But this doesn’t have to be a permanent thing. Just until you’ve found solid ground again. You liked dancing with him, right?”

“I did,” Shiro says, “but—”

“But nothing,” Matt says. “Dancing together for one competition isn’t a long-term commitment, man.”

Shiro sighs and scratches his head. “I guess it’s been five years of only ever competing with Adam. I’ve never really had a dance partner who was really just a dance partner.”

“All the more reason to give it a try,” Matt says. “Just one competition.”

“Like how before was _just one dance_?” Shiro says.

This is going to be many, many more—enough to get Keith’s swing to all-star competition levels, enough for him and Shiro to gain an instinct for each other’s patterns and flow and play to succeed against other couples of that caliber.

And even then it still might not be enough.

His gaze drifts aimlessly over the crowd moving across the floor of the Black Lion Ballroom. Unfamiliar faces shine out to him like beacons of how much has changed since the last time he was here. Six months ago, this was his home—he was here every day, teaching and dancing late into the night. He wants that again.

He wants all of it again.

Keith’s dancing, quietly bright and fierce, helped him take the first step. Maybe he should let Keith guide him the rest of the way there.

“If I wanted to talk to Keith,” Shiro says, “do you think Pidge would give me his number?”

“I’ll ask her.” Matt grins, and thumps him solidly on the shoulder. “You won’t regret this, man.”

Shiro wishes he had that kind of faith.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **[featured songs]** [(fic playlist)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0bnB893HUoqu2eEFMqJrzf?si=KpsdlExMQMymOmnatBsXOQ)  
> lift me up — onerepublic  
> toxic — alex & sierra

Shiro’s scuffed his shoes with how much he’s paced the floor before he decides he needs to get a grip and makes himself sit down on the bench at the far end of the practice room instead, tapping his feet.

There’s really no reason to be nervous. It’s just an introductory session, to see how much West Coast Swing Keith actually knows, to see how much he can pick up, to see if this partnership will work out or if Shiro should cut his losses now.

He really wants it to work out.

After Pidge sent over Keith’s number, Shiro went through a mild crisis over calling versus texting before deciding that he’d prolonged his misery long enough and an actual phone call might put him out of his anxiety much more quickly.

Keith’s voice was rough and low over the phone, and the sudden heat down Shiro’s spine reminded him that, despite all the logical reasons Shiro had for avoiding a relationship, Keith was a man that he found attractive in many ways.

Shiro’s still feeling antsy about the Black Lion, so he and Keith agreed to meet up at Allura’s studio, The Castle, instead. Shiro got there a full thirty minutes early to unlock the door in case Keith showed up early. He’s put on and taken off his dance shoes no less than five times, and now he’s slowly trying to drown himself in water. He’s on his third bottle in twenty minutes.

While Shiro’s filling up the fourth bottle, he hears the door open and hesitant footsteps cross the main entryway. He sticks his head out of the practice room.

Keith is striding in. He’s wearing a maroon beanie over his tousled hair, with a shallow V-necked shirt of the same color and dark grey skinny pants that show off his long legs. There’s a thick black cardigan thrown over the whole outfit. He’s wearing combat boots, but he’s carrying a dark grey sports bag that Shiro’s sure contains his dance shoes.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro calls out. “Glad you could make it.”

“Good to see you.” Keith shakes his hand firmly before stepping into the practice room. He sits down on the bench Shiro just vacated, and drops his bag on the floor in front of him so he can get to work unzipping his boots. From this angle, Shiro can see the familiar stylized _G_ emblazoned on the front.

“Galaxy Garrison?” Shiro says, remembering the water bottle from the night at Marmora.

Keith’s eyes dart to the bag, then to Shiro. “Oh. Uh, yeah.” He grabs the bag and pulls his dance shoes out of it, and when he sets it on the ground again, the logo is face-down.

“You work there?” Shiro says, with a casualness he completely doesn’t feel.

“Yeah.” Keith’s not looking at Shiro, eyes drawn to lacing up his shoes. “S’where I met Pidge.”

“Makes sense,” Shiro says. Pidge, he knows, has been dancing almost as long as he has. He’d taken Matt out, and Matt had taken Pidge, and they’d all tumbled into the dance world like a stack of dominos, though they’d fallen into separate styles.

But Pidge is devoted to her work at the Garrison, and only dances when she has the chance to—much like Adam. And Shiro’s sure Keith isn’t any different.

Here he is, helplessly falling for another Garrison guy whose definition of _real job_ doesn’t include dancing. It’s like he enjoys hurting himself.

God, what is Shiro even doing here? How deluded does he have to be to think he can just train up some random blues dancer to win an all-star swing competition, just to spite his ex-boyfriend whose opinion he’s done caring about?

“Hey,” Keith says. Both his shoes are on now, and he’s frowning at Shiro in concern. “You okay?”

“Ah, fine,” Shiro says, with a light, too-fake laugh. “Just spaced out for a bit.”

He stands. Even if this is all for nothing, he’s already asked Keith to come all the way out here, so at the very least he can make sure Keith can get a free lesson out of it.

And Shiro has to admit that, ever since Matt put the idea in his head, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what it would be like to dance with Keith again.

“So,” Shiro says, walking to the far side of the room where he has his cell phone connected to the speakers, “have you ever done West Coast before?”

“Yeah.” Keith’s footsteps thud on the floor behind him, stopping a few feet away. “It’s been a while, though. I don’t do it as often.”

“That’s fine.” Shiro scrolls through his playlist of songs, trying to find one without five years of memories attached to it. “Mind if we run through a song, just so I can get a feel? You don’t mind following, right?”

“Figured I would,” Keith says. “I’m probably much less of an impressive lead for West Coast than you are.”

Shiro smiles wryly. He’s not overconfident, but he’s not going to dismiss his own experience, either. “All right.” He gives up on picking out a song and just hits shuffle. “Let’s do it.”

It’s effortless to get into the starting position; Keith’s arms are lifted just right for Shiro to slide in, and he feels the pressure of Keith pressing his shoulderblade back against Shiro’s hand right away. Shiro just steps for a moment, finding the beat of the music between their bodies.

_If I told you I was down, I was down, would you help me?  
Told you I was down, I was down, would you lift me up?  
I need your strength, I’ll be yours someday  
If I told you I was down, I was down, would you lift me up?_

Keith follows the starter step easily, his connection light but firm in a way that only practiced dancers can achieve, and when Shiro sends him out with a turn, he pivots back into the slot with a little flair, arm out and ready for Shiro to catch. The tension between them is perfectly aligned on the anchor step, and Shiro knows—where he leads, Keith will follow.

It’s possible that his background in fusion is giving him an edge, but Shiro thinks it’s also likely that Keith’s a lot better at this than he was letting on.

_I have this human love  
It shattered once or twice  
It pulls me up and down  
If it’s filled with jagged ice  
Everyday I’m wanting something I ain’t havin’_

He leads with his usual series of beginner moves—a left-side pass, to test Keith’s connection and how well he stays in the slot; a sugar push, to check how much he relies on rote memorization of steps and how much he turns over to the connection; a whip, to see if he’s prepared for eight count moves.

When Keith hijacks Shiro’s underarm turn so he can play with the music and send himself around on the beat, Shiro knows that Keith is definitely more advanced than he claimed.

Shiro picks up the pace, adding more complicated variations, and Keith matches him with ease. He even launches Keith into a free spin, and Keith turns perfectly on the beat and ends right across from Shiro. He’s smiling, and when Shiro catches his eye, he smiles more.

Keith can follow, Shiro realizes giddily. Keith can _follow_ , and damn well at that.

_If I told you I was broke, I was broke would you fix me?  
Told you I was down to the line would you lift me up?  
I need your strength, I’ll be yours someday  
If I told you I was down, I was down would you lift me up?_

It’s exhilarating, being able to dance like this again.

It’s like Shiro’s barely even leading. As soon as he thinks about the next sequence he wants to do, Keith’s following through before Shiro’s brain has fully registered that he’s even led the move. 

And not just following, but styling, playing, making the music his, theirs in a way that throws Shiro back to the thrill of their first dance. Because this isn’t a lesson, and Shiro’s not sure it ever was. This is a dance.

He’s dancing with Keith, and Keith isn’t going to let him forget it.

Feeling bold, Shiro leads Keith into a sugar push, and when Keith comes close, he guides Keith’s arm over his head, framing his face. Shiro leads Keith back by his hip instead; Keith narrows his eyes and trails his hand down Shiro’s arm, but he’s still smiling.

Shiro doesn’t think he’s imagining the fact that Keith’s moves get dramatically more flirtatious after that.

_I have this human love  
My mother told me so  
She said this world could bring you down so don’t be swinging low  
Cause you and me and me and you got something magic_

Keith’s really having fun now, Shiro thinks.

He’s gotten familiar with the way Shiro leads, all the little openings he’s used to leaving to let his more advanced follows have fun, and Keith’s taking advantage of every single one of them, styling and flirting and straight-out playing with the lead in a way that makes Shiro grin so hard his cheeks are sore with it.

Forget just being an excellent follow—Keith is an excellent dancer. His moves aren’t quite technically perfect—his footwork’s sloppy, and he plays loose with the counts, probably due to his heavier background in fusion, but his _musicality_.

It’s what makes Keith so mesmerizing, even when he’s doing even the most basic of steps.

Music isn’t what Keith’s dancing to. It’s what he’s dancing with. The third partner in their dance, seamlessly integrated in a way that feels so natural that it takes Shiro’s breath away, makes his eyes water and his chest grow tight.

This is what he loved.

This is what he missed.

_I got my problems but I don’t need you to solve them and I don’t care  
Like it or not, all my shit is right there  
I wear my issues like tattoos across my chest  
And people notice I tell them you ain’t seen nothing yet_

Something happens—a shift, where one moment Shiro’s guided Keith’s momentum towards him, and the next Keith has redirected it back. Shiro takes a step before he realizes what the difference is.

He’s following now.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Keith stops him by sending him into a turn and grinning, stunning and bright.

“You want to see all of what I can do, right?”

Shiro wants to see all of it. He wants to see all of it and more.

His hand tightens on Keith’s. “Show me.”

_Lift me up and be my strength, I’ll be yours someday  
If I told you I was down, I was down  
Lift me up_

* * *

They set a practice schedule—one hour on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays every week until the competition.

“Same place?” Keith says when he puts it into his calendar, but something about doing this at The Castle feels wrong.

This is Shiro’s revival, and there’s only one place that Shiro feels is proper for him to be reborn.

He gives Keith the address to the Black Lion Ballroom instead.

Shiro also starts going to Marmora again. His excuse is that he wants to experience more of Keith dancing in his element, to get a sense of his unique style and the things he’d want to bring in to his swing. And that is the truth, at least partially. 

The other part of it is that, when Shiro’s not dancing with Keith, he’s thinking about dancing with Keith, and he’ll take any opportunity to have the real thing that he can get.

It’s clear that Keith doesn’t feel quite the same, though; he’s hesitant to even go to the socials at the Black Lion.

“I don’t know,” Keith says when Shiro brings it up. “I’m kind of nervous dancing in places I’m not used to, I guess.” He pauses. “It’s not that I don’t want to go.”

“It’s that you don’t want to go?” Shiro says, smiling in understanding. “I’m not going to make you. But I think it’d help you out to experience different kinds of leads than mine.”

“Yeah.” Keith shifts uncomfortably. “I’ll think about it, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shiro says. “You’re doing really well already, so it’s fine if you decide not to. Just wanted to throw it out there as an option.”

That doesn’t sound desperate, right?

Keith smiles a little. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Shiro doesn’t bring it up again.

They keep practicing, and Shiro keeps going to Marmora. Late-night dancing turns into late-night milkshakes, and they talk about anything and everything while Shiro pretends to be horrified by the fries that Keith dips into his strawberry milkshake.

Shiro learns that Keith’s dad is a firefighter, and his mom’s traveling but Keith can’t talk too much about it. He also learns that Keith lives with his dad in the city and commutes to the Garrison every day, and if he knows who Shiro is, he doesn’t talk about it.

He learns that Keith has a wolf companion (unnamed, and not a pet) that is not actually a legally-domesticated animal, and so the wolf mainly roams the desert when he’s not walking around with Keith.

He learns that Keith is quick, funny, kind, and Shiro can’t help but smile when he talks to him.

Shiro learns that he’s falling, hard.

And he doesn’t think there’s anything he can do to stop it.

* * *

Marmora starts to feel like another home.

Pidge stopped smirking knowingly at him after the first month, which is nice because now he doesn’t have to avoid her in shame. And Shiro’s been slowly getting to know the rest of Keith’s circle of dancer friends.

Acxa, the woman Keith was dancing with when Shiro had first seen him, is also a regular DJ, and one of Keith’s closest friends. She used to primarily dance Standard ballroom; then she went to a tango blues fusion one night and fell in love with the blues aspect of it a lot more.

She says her former dance partner’s still bitter about it, but, apparently, her former partner is Lotor. Seeing as he’s now Allura’s partner, Shiro figures things haven’t turned out too badly for him. Allura’s a superstar in the Standard world, after all.

Acxa’s girlfriend and new primary dance partner is a woman named Veronica, who is the older sister of Lance, Keith’s coworker and the man who’s been vying for Allura’s attention and trying to usurp Lotor’s position. It hasn’t been working out for him, but Allura always sounds amused whenever she relays the story to Shiro.

“Small world,” Keith says, when Shiro mentions that he knows the players in the other half of the game.

“The dance community is pretty small, when you think about it,” Shiro says.

“Really is.” Keith folds his hands together. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. There seem to be a lot of Garrison people who dance.”

“Yeah, that’s how I first got into it, actually,” Shiro says, the first admission of his Garrison connection. Keith doesn’t look surprised, but he doesn’t really look anything except attentive. Shiro relaxes and goes on. “Just thought it’d be something interesting to try near the base and, well. Guess it hooked me in deeper than I thought it would.”

“Yeah?” Keith says. “How’d you find out about it?”

“Honestly,” Shiro says, “I was just walking around one day and I passed the community center and saw the group going at it. I knew one of the officers, they TA’d one of my classes, so I decided to just give it a shot that night. It was a lot of fun, so I went back. It was nice and casual, just a couple hours a week and right on base. I got a bit spoiled, actually. It was a lot harder to dance in the real world.”

Keith smiles, just a tilt of his lips. “Yeah, I feel that. But now you’re running your whole own thing.”

“I am,” Shiro says. “I’m always surprised when cadets will drive all the way out here, but good for them, really. They should get off-base every once in a while.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Makes sense.”

Keith’s gaze strays over to the dance floor, and Shiro follows it. He’s still not over how different the vibe is between Marmora and the Black Lion. Something about it—the space, the music, the closeness of the dance—makes him hyperaware of Keith next to him; of his breathing, and the soft part of his lips, and the heat prickling between their skin.

In the glamour of the Black Lion Ballroom and the predictable slotted style of West Coast Swing, dancing is one thing. But here in Marmora, with its hazy lights and crooning music and the intimacy that the style here demands—dancing here is something entirely different.

“Next song?” Keith says, glancing over at him.

“Ah, yeah, sure,” Shiro says, and he fidgets in awkward anticipation as he waits for the song to end. When the song enters its final measures and Keith holds his hand out, Shiro tries not to act too eager as he latches onto it and lets Keith lead him to an empty space on the dance floor.

The song opens with the strumming of an acoustic guitar, and Shiro swallows when he realizes what it is.

_Baby, can’t you see  
I’m calling  
A guy like you  
Should wear a warning  
It’s dangerous  
I’m fallin’_

Shiro’s heart pounds as Keith tugs them together and scoops Shiro under his arm, and Shiro laughs quietly as his heart tugs with it. He really isn’t sure that he can survive this song.

He isn’t sure that he can survive Keith, period.

_There’s no escape  
I can’t wait  
I need a hit  
Baby, give me it  
It’s dangerous  
I’m lovin’ it_

There’s something dark and intense in Keith’s eyes whenever Shiro’s in a position to catch a look.

It’s his look of focus, Shiro knows, but on the dance, or on Shiro himself—Shiro isn’t sure. He swallows hard as Keith’s fingers trail down his arms, and it gives him the courage to put his hands on Keith’s chest, and hips, and other places he wouldn’t dare to touch if he were just casually dancing with someone else.

Music is their third partner, and right now it’s setting Shiro free.

_Too high  
Can’t come down  
Losing my head  
Spinning ‘round and ‘round_

Shiro grins as Keith spins him round just as the lyrics hit—clearly Keith’s familiar with this song. Familiar enough to play with it, and play with Shiro. At the end of the spin, they end up in closed position again, Shiro firmly in Keith’s arms.

_Do you feel me now_

Oh, does Shiro ever.

_Taste of your lips, I’m on a ride  
You’re toxic I’m slipping under  
With a taste of a poison paradise  
I’m addicted to you  
Don’t you know that you’re toxic_

Shiro’s lips are dry, and he wets them without thinking too hard about it. He rolls his head under Keith’s arm, keeping their gazes locked as long as he can, and his hands on Keith’s body for longer than necessary.

If Keith’s going to touch him, and flirt with him, he’s going to do the same—difference being that Keith is being guided by the music, and Shiro by his helpless heart.

_It’s getting late  
To give you up  
I took a sip  
From my devil’s cup_

He gets bolder, touches himself, adds a little flair, rolls his head even though he has no hair to flip and it’s just his bangs that give a sad little flop. The amusement on Keith’s face is worth it as Shiro exaggerates his sultriness, and Keith gives him more room to play. He takes full advantage of it, body-rolling and hitting each beat in a way he never, never has the chance to normally.

_Slowly  
It’s taking over me_

Keith guides him back into a close embrace, and this, Shiro thinks, is his favorite part of the dance.

The turns are fun. The free dancing and styling is fun. But the real thrill of it is in these moments.

The first time they danced, Keith kept a respectable distance. As they’ve gotten closer, so has their dance; they’re chest-to-chest now, Shiro’s head over Keith’s shoulder and Keith’s thigh slotted intoxicatingly between Shiro’s legs.

Shiro slips his eyes closed.

_Intoxicate me now  
With your lovin’ now  
I think I’m ready now  
I think I’m ready now_

This is Shiro’s favorite part because it’s the part where his brain knows to just turn off, because there’s nothing to think about. He can’t see Keith’s face, and Keith can’t see his. 

All he can do is feel—feel the way Keith’s chest moves against him, the way his breaths tickle Shiro’s neck. The shift of his thigh, and the hand on his shoulderblade, guiding Shiro wherever Keith wants to lead.

And Shiro will follow him.

He’ll follow him all the way down.

_Intoxicate me now  
With your lovin’ now  
I think I’m ready now  
I think I’m ready now_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **[featured songs]** [(fic playlist)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0bnB893HUoqu2eEFMqJrzf?si=KpsdlExMQMymOmnatBsXOQ)  
> into you - james gordon

“You okay?” Ryan says.

“Fine, why?”

“You just kind of haven’t stopped staring at the door since lessons ended,” Ryan says, and that pulls Shiro’s attention away from said door and onto Ryan’s wry smile. “Just saying. Waiting for someone?”

“Yeah, uh.” Shiro hesitates for a moment, but this is Ryan. If there’s anyone in the room he can trust, it’s him. “My new dance partner.”

Keith brought it up one day while putting his shoes away, the month before the convention. After the first week, he’d stopped bringing his Garrison bag and has been carrying a black and white one with the stylized V symbol from what looks like Allura’s clothing line. “So, I was thinking about going to your dance this week?”

It was so unexpected that Shiro fumbled his phone. “Oh. I—Really? You really don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable with it. We’ve been working pretty well together already, and I think going to Marmora’s really been helping me understand more of your style.”

“I think I should try to understand more of yours, too,” Keith said. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Shiro said, though his brain immediately made the connection to _Adam_.

He hadn’t really told Keith about Adam, though he’s sure Matt might’ve, or Pidge, or Shiro’s own Instagram account. And he hadn’t really told Adam any more about Keith, either.

But Keith isn’t one to make a scene, and Keith is, quite frankly, none of Adam’s business, so Shiro decided not to worry about it.

He’s second-guessing that decision now.

“He been around here before?” Ryan says. “Your new guy.”

“No,” Shiro says, and then realizes he doesn’t know that for sure. Keith has enough skill that he must have danced socially somewhere before, though Shiro hopes he’d remember if Keith ever showed up here. “Or, not recently, at least. He doesn’t do much West Coast anymore.”

Ryan’s eyebrows hitch up. “But he’s competing with you?”

Shiro laughs. “Trust me, you wouldn’t know it if you saw him.”

“I’m sure, if he’s dancing with you,” Ryan says. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“You mean if he ever shows?” Shiro says, and winces. He doesn’t want his nerves to get the best of him. Keith’s always been intentional and straightforward. He’s not the type to ghost or flake. If, for some reason, he doesn’t show up, he’ll have a valid reason.

That’s what logic says, anyway. Emotion makes Shiro keep looking up at the door.

“You have those practice videos for me?” Ryan says.

“Oh, yeah.” Shiro welcomes the distraction for what it is and fumbles for the video cameras in his bag. “Thanks so much for letting me borrow these, and editing for us.”

“No problem,” Ryan says. “Gotta say, you’re probably the first person brave enough to try this.”

“You mean dumb enough?” Shiro says with a laugh.

He plans on sending the Ryan-compiled-and-edited practice video to the World Swing Dance Council in order to jump-start Keith’s qualification in competing at the all-star level, instead of leveling up via competition points the same way everyone else does. He’d already contacted the WSDC about it and their response had basically been _yeah, whatever_. The video’s really just a formality.

The ease with which it’s all happening implies to Shiro that no one’s ever done it because, well, sending a newbie straight to the top only spells disaster.

Shiro knows Keith is different.

“I’m excited to see what you guys can do,” Ryan says.

“You might be able to see it tonight,” Shiro says. “Again, if he ever shows.”

Ryan shakes his head and pushes his phone toward Shiro. “Stop worrying for a bit. Here, I’ve got a playlist for the cat party this month. Look over it for me?”

Shiro takes the phone and the earbuds and focuses on tracking the flow of Ryan’s music for a while until he notices a commotion next to him. James is over in the DJ corner, talking frantically with Ryan. Shiro lowers the earbuds. “You okay?”

“Fine,” James says, way too quickly for things to actually be fine—and Shiro’s an expert at it.

“His ex,” Ryan says.

“Ryan!”

“Is it okay?” Shiro says, looking out over the crowd to try to catch anyone who looks like they might be beelining for James. “Do we need to run interference for you?”

“No, we’re totally chill, it’s fine, I swear,” James says. “I just have no idea what he’s doing here because it’s not like he ever comes here except for that one time I asked him to. What is he doing here, Ryan?”

Ryan shrugs. “Trying something new? Maybe he ended up liking it.”

“Ugh.” James looks like he’s going to shuffle back towards the dance floor, but he stops and turns back to Ryan. “How’s my hair?”

Ryan just shakes his head and turns back to Shiro. And then he stops, looking over Shiro’s head.

Shiro turns too. Keith’s standing next to his chair, looking delicious in black jeans and a tight black T-shirt. “Hey.”

“Keith,” Shiro says, standing up for a hug. “Hey. Glad you made it.”

Keith nods as he steps back. “Told you I would, didn’t I? Hey, James. Ryan.”

Shiro blinks back at the other two. Ryan has his hand lifted in a wave, and James’ eyes are jumping nonstop between Keith and Shiro.

“You guys know each other?” James says.

“We’re dancing Strictly together,” Shiro says, putting his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “For the Swingtacular.”

“You’re competing?” James squawks, but for once it’s not directed at Shiro. It’s at Keith.

“So what?” Keith says.

“You’ve never competed!” James says. “You’re, like, above competing or whatever!”

Keith’s nose wrinkles as he frowns. “How can someone be above competing?”

“I don’t know, ask past Keith!”

“How do you know each other?” Shiro cuts in.

James’s face draws carefully blank. “Uh.”

“We used to date,” Keith says, hefting his bag up his shoulder.

Keith is James’s ex.

Keith is James’s ex?

He doesn’t know why that’s so surprising. They’re both great dancers, around the same age, and they’d both gone to the Garrison. It’d almost be more surprising if they hadn’t dated.

“Not to ruin the moment,” Ryan says, nodding toward the door, “but we have incoming.”

Shiro doesn’t need to look, but he does anyway. Adam and his new partner are by the door. Adam’s paying the cover, while his partner is checking something on his phone. Neither of them are looking around the room, or over at the DJ corner, but Shiro’s sure it’s only a matter of time.

“Your ex?” Keith says, following Shiro’s gaze.

“Yeah.” Shiro tries to evaluate Keith’s expression, but it seems carefully neutral. “Don’t worry, we’re friendly. Pidge tell you about us?”

“A little bit,” Keith says. “And not what I was worried about, but I guess that’s good to know. Does he know about…?”

Shiro looks at him, and Keith raises his eyebrows and gestures between the both of them.

Ah.

“Kind of,” Shiro says. Technically, Adam was the first person Shiro told, though Shiro’s not sure if Adam actually believed him.

Considering Shiro was actually lying at the time, that would’ve been fair.

“He’s coming this way,” Ryan says. “Just a heads up.”

“Keith,” Shiro says desperately. “Dance?”

Keith grimaces. “I haven’t put on my shoes yet.”

Shiro looks down at Keith’s combat boots. Not great for Keith’s technique, and also not great for Shiro’s floor. He looks over the dance floor—Adam’s not even halfway through the crowd yet. He grabs Keith and drags him off to the row of chairs on the side and tries to look small as Keith changes out his boots for his usual suede-bottomed sneakers.

“Shiro,” Adam’s voice says from right behind him.

Well, it was worth a try.

Shiro turns and stands, polite smile on his face. It’s just Adam again, his partner nowhere to be seen.

“Adam,” Shiro says, in Adam’s same perfectly cordial tone. “Still coming, huh?”

“Same to you,” Adam says. “Kogane. I didn’t know you danced as well.”

Of course Adam would know Keith. The Garrison isn’t that big, and Shiro’s sure Keith’s successful there in his own right. Of course.

Keith shrugs a shoulder as he stands, too, swaying close so he’s pressed reassuringly against Shiro’s side. “Been dancing since my first year. It’s a fun way to spend time, but I’m sure you already knew that. Commander.”

Adam blinks between the two of them. “I see. I don’t recall seeing you around.”

“I don’t really come here often,” Keith says. “Shiro invited me.”

“Did he?” Adam says blandly.

Shiro puts his hand on Keith’s shoulder, and nearly jumps when Keith’s arm wraps around his waist in return. “Keith’s my new dance partner.”

“Is he?” Adam says, much less blandly. “I don’t recall seeing you in competition before, either.”

“First time for everything,” Keith says.

Shiro can practically see Adam’s brain churning on that, can practically see his eyes screaming _that’s not how it works_ before he looks at Shiro’s face again and his frown deepens.

“Well,” Adam says. “Congratulations, both of you. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Kogane.”

Keith’s arm tightens around Shiro. “I know exactly what I’m getting myself into, thanks.”

The silence stretches between them as the music ends. Adam’s watching him, and Shiro looks away to avoid his gaze. His eyes land on Keith, pleading for help, but Keith isn’t looking at him—he’s looking over at Ryan at the DJ booth.

The music changes to a song Shiro vaguely recognizes, and Keith tilts his head up to look at Shiro.

“I like this song,” he says, bumping their hips together. “Dance?”

“Ah, sure.” Shiro glances briefly at Adam before holding his hand out for Keith.

Keith glances over as well, and nods. “Nice meeting you,” he says, in a tone completely devoid of pleasantness.

“You as well,” Adam says. He gives Shiro another inscrutable look before turning away.

“Thanks,” Shiro says once they’re out on the floor and he and Keith are swaying together, picking up the beat. “You didn’t have to do—all of that.”

“Seemed like he was giving you shit,” Keith says.

“He’s just worried,” Shiro says, though it’s weak, even to his own ears.

Keith frowns. “Doesn’t mean he has to be rude about it.”

 _He’s just blunt, like always,_ is what Shiro is about to say, but then he stops himself, because why on Earth is he trying to defend Adam right now, and especially to Keith? He’s used to Adam saying these kinds of things to him, but Keith doesn’t deserve it, and he sees why Keith would see it as rude.

“Sorry,” Shiro says instead.

“Don’t apologize for him,” Keith says, face twisting into a deeper frown.

“Sorry,” Shiro says again, squeezing his hand briefly. “Dance?”

“Dance,” Keith says, and Shiro sends Keith out before they can say anything more.

He knows what the song is now—it’s an acoustic cover, and he doesn’t listen to much Ariana Grande, which is why he didn’t notice until the chorus picks up—

_So baby come light me up, and maybe I’ll let you on it  
A little bit dangerous, but baby that’s how I want it  
A little less conversation and a little more ‘touch my body’  
’Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you_

Keith is being overly flirtatious.

Shiro can see it in the twist of his lips, and the way Keith’s amped up the contact, pushing himself off Shiro’s body instead of his hands or trailing his fingers around Shiro’s neck and shoulders any time he’s close enough to touch.

Shiro can’t pretend he’s not into it, but—he doesn’t want it to just be because Keith thinks he’s doing Shiro a favor.

_This could take some time, hey  
I made too many mistakes  
Better get this right_

Shiro pulls him in so that they’re in closed position, nestled up against each other. “What are you doing?”

“Playing,” Keith says.

Shiro sighs a little, and holds up his arm to lead Keith into a turn that’ll separate them again, but Keith puts his arm up, stopping the move, and backtracks his way right back into Shiro’s arms. He puts an arm on Shiro’s chest and another on his shoulderblade—a leading position.

Shiro raises his eyebrows, but follows the lead into the body roll, and the head roll that follows.

“Playing?” Shiro says.

A smile dances across Keith’s lips. “Can you follow?”

“Can you lead?”

The smile becomes a smirk.

_Oh, baby, look what you started  
The temperature’s rising in here  
Is this gonna happen?  
Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move  
Before I make a move_

Shiro remembers, suddenly, that Keith led, briefly, during their first West Coast practice session, though Shiro’s been leading every time since in preparation for the competition.

He doesn’t know why they’ve stuck to that—Keith’s a more than experienced lead at fusion, and Shiro knows he’s been quick to pick up advanced follow techniques in their West Coast practice sessions. Why not lead, as well?

Because he’s clearly good at it, mixing in sequences Shiro recognizes from himself with Keith’s unique fusion flair. His footwork’s better, though still a bit loose, but it doesn’t matter when it’s enough for Shiro to follow.

And it’s just fun.

He’s leaving more than enough room for Shiro to stylize and play, and Shiro does—a body roll here, an extra pop there, Keith’s hands encouraging him all the while.

Keith’s showing him off, Shiro realizes.

Shiro also realizes he doesn’t mind.

_Got everyone watchin’ us, so baby let’s keep it secret  
A little bit scandalous, but baby don’t let them see it  
A little less conversation and a little more ‘touch my body’  
‘Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you_

They’ve drawn a crowd.

Shiro’s not surprised. He doesn’t get the opportunity to follow often, from what he guesses is a combination of his reputation and his size. Most of the times that he tries, it feels awkward—even with Adam, he was almost always leading.

But it’s easy as breathing with Keith, and it only feels natural that others’ attentions are catching onto them the same way his attention was caught by Keith that very first night.

 _Let them watch_ , Shiro thinks.

Maybe a little bitterly, he hopes that one person in particular is watching.

Keith snaps him out of his thoughts with a neat whip, and then a few steps later he’s spinning in front of Keith, arms up and body guided by Keith’s warm hands pressing firmly against his hips.

_Tell me what you came here for?  
‘Cause I can’t, I can’t wait no more  
I’m on the edge with no control  
And I need, I need you to know  
You to know_

It’s exhilarating, being shown off like this.

He’s been following Keith’s lead for months now at Marmora, but it’s different there—despite the place being just as packed, there’s a kind of quiet intimacy that always exists between them, primarily due to the nature of the dance itself.

But West Coast—West Coast is flashy, Shiro knows. Flashy and showy. All tricks and styles, bold steps and bold touches.

Keith’s West Coast is like that too, on the surface. But flames are licking underneath, and Shiro can feel it in his gaze. The world melts away as their eyes lock, and Keith pulls him close again, blocks Shiro’s way with his arm. Shiro lets his eyes slip shut as he rolls his head under Keith’s arm.

_So baby come light me up, and maybe I’ll let you on it_

Keith pulls him into closed position, and it’s definitely more fusion than West Coast now. Shiro leans into it, into Keith as he moves their bodies together. The warmth of him makes Shiro’s head spin.

_A little bit dangerous, but baby that’s how I want it_

Keith looks at him, assessing, then sends Shiro into a turn. Shiro comes back to find Keith much, much closer than before. They’re in a close embrace, nearly flush now, Keith’s knee between Shiro’s legs and Shiro’s cheek by his ear, and they sway for a breath, two.

Except Shiro’s not breathing.

_A little less conversation and a little more ‘touch my body’_

Shiro turns in Keith’s arms again, but this time he wedges a hand between them onto Keith’s chest so that he can look into his eyes and try to understand what’s going on, if Keith is feeling the same way he’s feeling because—

_‘Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you_

They’re so close.

Shiro thinks, for a heart-stopping moment, that Keith is going to close that final distance between them, that they’re going to—

Then Keith sends him away again, into a quick turn and a dip that leaves Shiro’s head spinning and his lungs breathless with laughter, because when was the last time anyone’s ever tried to dip him?

But Keith’s grip is solid and sure, and Shiro looks into his face and wants.

Then the world is upright again, the crowd that’s stopped to watch them is hooting, and Keith only fidgets in it for a moment before he’s retreating over to the DJ corner.

And Shiro—

Shiro’s left wondering what the hell just happened.


	5. Chapter 5

Keith stays in the corner for the next few songs, and Shiro lets him have his space.

Shiro needs it too, just to get his thoughts together.

He spends some time clearing his head, dancing with some of his other friends. Romelle’s always fun to dance with, and she pulls him in for a spin to Justin Bieber. He also goes a round with James, who keeps looking like he wants to ask something but doesn’t.

Adam also keeps looking at Shiro like that from across the floor, but he doesn’t make a move to come over.

Shiro’s fine with that. He doesn’t really want to talk about it, either.

At least, not until he talks to Keith first.

At some point between one dance and the next, Keith moves from his hiding spot in the DJ corner, and Shiro looks and looks across the dance floor but doesn’t see him. Keith wouldn’t just leave, would he?

He checks his phone. There aren’t any messages from Keith, but also signal inside the Black Lion has always been a bit shoddy. He goes outside, and finds Keith sitting on a planter, on his phone.

He makes his way over. “Mind if I join you?”

Keith looks up and smiles. It seems sincere. “Hey. Sorry. Just needed some fresh air.”

“Gets hot in there, huh?” Shiro says, sitting next to him.

“Everyone moves around a lot more than in Marmora, I guess,” Keith says. “Also, Bieber? Really?”

Shiro grins. “I knew you’d say that. And if you’re going to complain to someone about it, complain to Ryan. It’s not my playlist.”

Keith laughs. “Ryan already knows what I think about his music.”

Shiro hums. The silence settles for a moment, then he says, “So, you and James, huh?”

“Me and James,” Keith says. He fiddles with his phone for a moment, then says, “We, uh. We met back at the Garrison.”

“Makes sense.” For how much Shiro tries to escape the Garrison, it’s funny how it always ends up coming back to him. You can take the man out of the Garrison… or something like that. “While you were both cadets?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “We still work together now, kind of.”

There’s no denying that the conversation is awkward. They’ve been skirting around the topic of the Galaxy Garrison for months now, and Shiro knows it’s his fault. There’s no way Keith doesn’t know who he is by now, and people who know who he is react one of two ways—ask him tons of invasive questions about his past, or try to avoid poking at it at all.

Keith seems to have chosen the latter.

“You can ask, if you want,” Shiro says. “Or, at least, you don’t have to avoid talking about it. I know I’m still something of a public figure.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He fiddles with his phone in his hands. “I don’t want to bring up bad memories, or anything like that. I know you left on… not the best terms.”

“It was a long time ago,” Shiro says. “Trust me, you wouldn’t be able to ask anything that the Garrison hasn’t already asked ten times over. You’d probably be nicer about it.”

Keith’s lips twist in displeasure. “What, did they just think you made up your memory loss or something?”

“Well, they made up the memory loss, actually,” Shiro says lightly. “Easier for them than trying to figure out how to handle the whole _aliens are real_ part of it.”

He thinks they believed him, in the end, even if they insisted they could never tell the public about it. He thinks Adam wishes he’d just never said the word _aliens_ in the first place.

“So,” Keith says, “you met some aliens?”

“Just one.” Shiro watches Keith’s face carefully. He’s the first person Shiro’s told this story to in years, and the first who isn’t reacting with immediate doubt. “We were leaking fuel. Sam and Matt patched it up, but it didn’t change the fact that we didn’t have enough to get back. We were trying to figure out what to do when there was this other ship, and this woman. She was purple, and I feel like that was surprising, but then she spoke English and somehow that was the most shocking thing about it all.”

Shiro laughs quietly, and is relieved when Keith smiles, too. “Anyway, she gave us some fuel from her ship. It was different from ours, but Sam and Matt checked it out and they thought it’d work. And it did, mostly. Got us all the way back here. But something happened when we re-entered atmo and, well.” Shiro consciously shrugs the shoulder with the prosthetic. “You know the rest.”

“So they just—lied and said you had memory loss?” Keith says, voice rising.

“They had a point,” Shiro says. “Who’s going to believe me if I just go out there and say aliens are in our midst?”

“I believe you,” Keith says, so sincerely that Shiro’s taken aback. 

“Thank you,” he says, softly. “But you understand why they’d want to cover it up. And it wasn’t terrible, as far as cover-ups go.”

The story was simple—Shiro’d blacked out on re-entry, and had woken up just in time to guide the ship to an ocean landing. Never mind that he’d been the one to time Sam and Matt’s safe ejection. Never mind that if he’d really blacked out, there was no way they would have made it to the ocean.

The fabricated sequence of events wasn’t a failure of the Garrison, and wasn’t a complete failure of Shiro, either. Matt was pissed at the redirection of blame—it was the Garrison’s equipment failure that was really at fault, after all—and he and Sam were more than ready to turn it into a fight for Shiro’s honor, but Shiro was permanently injured, tired, and done.

They wouldn’t let him fly again, no matter what. Changing the story wouldn’t change that fact. So he let it go.

“That’s still shitty of them,” Keith says.

“I agree,” Shiro says. “But it was a shitty situation to start with. They’re worried about the image of the organization. I get it. I still believe they can get us out there. Just sucks that I can’t be involved the way I wanted to.”

“Are you still involved?”

“A little bit,” Shiro says. “They gave me a lot of money, after, for insurance and to keep quiet. There’s a reason I had enough to buy this dance studio.” He smiles wryly. “But I give back, for the things I believe in. I’m helping fund the warp drive project. And I endowed a scholarship to give underprivileged students a chance to get in. I think what the Garrison needs is more people who think differently.”

“You’re a good man,” Keith says quietly.

Shiro hopes so.

He clears his throat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get into… all of that.”

“Thanks for sharing it with me,” Keith says. “It means a lot that you trust me enough to say it.”

“Yeah, of course I trust you,” Shiro says. “I—”

Keith waits, and when Shiro doesn’t start speaking again, says, “You…?”

Shiro wants to say it, he really does—all the things that Keith’s been making him feel since they first met all coming to a head in this quiet, tender moment. But the second he opens his mouth, all of his fears from the past few months, the past year, the past five years rushes to clog it.

From the beginning, he knew getting romantically involved with Keith would be a mistake. So what if Keith makes his heart race every time he smiles, every time they touch? So what if Keith’s listening to him—always listens to him—with the utmost sincerity? So what if Shiro can’t imagine going a day without thinking of him?

It doesn’t mean this is going to last.

Trading temporary happiness for his long-term happiness. He’s already made that mistake once. Why make it again?

“Never mind,” he says, pushing himself away from the planter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Shiro.”

Shiro turns around. Keith’s standing away from the planter now, too, phone tucked precariously half in his jacket pocket and hands clenching and unclenching into loose fists at his side.

“I like you,” Keith says. “I don’t know if that’s what you wanted to talk about, but, yeah. I wanted to wait until after the convention because I don’t want you to be left without a partner if things get awkward, but, I don’t know, Pidge said I should just tell you and I thought, and… Am I reading everything wrong here?”

“You’re not,” Shiro says. He can feel his heart fluttering in his throat, but he’s not sure if it’s a good kind of fluttering; he feels partway between elated and like he’s going to be sick. “What else did Pidge tell you?”

“Not much,” Keith says. “No details, don’t worry. It’s your own business. She just said that you might not be open to a relationship right now, and that’s fine, I know it’s kind of soon. Sorry, I really—I really wasn’t going to say anything.”

“No, it’s—” Shiro swallows around the fluttering in his throat, willing it to relax. It doesn’t. It doesn’t at all. “I’m sorry,” he says, helplessly.

Keith smiles, and it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Meet you back inside?”

“Okay,” Shiro says. He takes a deep breath and pushes his hair back as he watches Keith walk back to the building, every pound of his boots against the pavement sounding like something final.

Shiro watches, and he feels like this is the bigger mistake.

“Shit.” He jogs after Keith, snagging his wrist. “Keith, wait.”

Keith blinks up at him. His eyes are a little wet, and shame piles on to the feelings kicking in his throat.

He’s going to regret it. He knows, looking at Keith and remembering the joy in his eyes, the heat of his touch, the rough of his voice—

Keith’s brought him back to life, and even if it all ends up going to hell, Shiro knows he’ll regret it if he lets Keith walk away now.

So he can’t.

He knows it’s probably stupid, it’s probably desperate, it’s probably a mistake, but he can’t.

“I like you,” Shiro says. “A lot. Everything about you. And I want to take you out, properly, if you’ll let me. That’s what I wanted to say.”

Keith smiles softly. “You could take me anywhere.”

* * *

Shiro can’t remember the last time he’s been this happy.

He’s dancing non-stop. Keith’s following his original goal of feeling out what West Coast is like with different partners—and after his display with Shiro earlier, he has no shortage of partners—but it doesn’t stop him from finding Shiro every few songs, stealing him away with a shy smile.

His shirts get outright gross with sweat, and he’s just changed it for the second time and is fanning himself in the corner when Adam literally corners him by the same potted plant Matt had.

Shiro’s starting to think he needs to get rid of this plant.

He looks around for Keith, and spots him dancing with Romelle on the far side of the room. The song’s just started, so it’ll be a while before he can be saved.

Shiro suppresses a sigh. “Hello, Adam. How are you?”

“Doing well,” Adam says. “And yourself?”

“I’m assuming you’re not cornering me for small talk,” Shiro says.

“I’m not—” Adam takes stock of their situation and relents the point, because Adam has always been reasonable, and he is in fact literally cornering Shiro. “I just want to ask if you know exactly who your new boyfriend is.”

Direct as always. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Keith Kogane,” Adam says. “He’s a real hotshot pilot over at the Garrison, a lot like you were. Some say better than you were, but not nearly as good at following orders. Though I’m not sure those people were really paying attention to your track record. You were just better at looking like you were following orders.”

Trust Shiro to fall for the equivalent of his successor by sheer accident. He feels a headache coming on. “Just get to the point.”

“Are you sure he’s who you want to be involving yourself with right now?” Adam says.

“He’s not you,” Shiro says, and regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. He’s not trying to be nasty. He doesn’t want to be nasty. “Sorry, that wasn’t what I meant.”

“No, I think it was.” Adam says. “And you’re right, he isn’t me. If anything, he’s you. They want him piloting the next mission to Kerberos. Did you know that?”

He didn’t. 

They’d just spoken about it, and Keith hadn’t mentioned it at all—but when could he have? Before or after Shiro talked about the Garrison throwing him under the bus for their failures on that exact same mission?

And Keith will be going there next.

“I’m not telling you to do anything,” Adam says, “except think about what you’re getting yourself into. I don’t want you getting hurt because of what Kogane’s doing with his life.”

“Getting hurt,” Shiro repeats. He smiles because he feels like he has to, not because he finds any humor in this. “Like you did?”

Adam presses his lips together. “Exactly like I did.”

“I’m not you,” Shiro says, “and as much as people apparently like to compare us, he isn’t me. Don’t act like there’s only one way these things can go.”

“I’m not saying any of this to upset you, Takashi,” Adam says. He’s holding his hands out, defensive, and it makes Shiro’s hackles rise. “I’m saying it because we were together for years, and I still give a shit about you, and I don’t want to see you making the same mistake again.”

“And what mistake is that?”

“Falling for someone that isn’t right for you just because you feel like you won’t have a chance with anyone else.”

“That is—” The music’s died out, and Shiro’s voice is too loud in the relative silence. He sees Keith looking at him from the other side of the room. He lowers his voice and says quickly, “That is not true. And you lost your right to get involved with any of my relationships the moment you ended ours, so I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of it.”

Adam looks over his shoulder at where people are staring. “I’m only trying to look out for you. I hope some day you’ll realize that.”

He makes himself scarce before Keith can get there, and Keith’s frowning at him all the way.

“You okay?” Keith says.

“Fine,” Shiro says, reaching out to squeeze Keith’s hand. “Just Adam. Nothing for you to be worried about.”

“If you’re sure,” Keith says.

“I’m sure.” Shiro smiles. “Come on. Want to dance the next once?”

“Okay,” Keith says, and Shiro pulls them onto the floor.

The tension from the argument doesn’t leave him for the rest of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **[featured songs]** [(fic playlist)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0bnB893HUoqu2eEFMqJrzf?si=KpsdlExMQMymOmnatBsXOQ)  
> all about us — he is we, owl city

Shiro wakes up with the conversation with Adam still weighing heavily in his mind.

He called it an early night last night. He couldn’t enjoy the dance, couldn’t pay enough attention to enjoy the dance, even when he was dancing with Keith—or maybe because he was dancing with Keith.

Because as much as Shiro wants to argue, he knows that, in a lot of ways, Adam’s right.

Keith’s a career pilot for the Garrison—and the best of the best, too, if Shiro believes Adam’s claims that Keith is practically considered the next Takashi Shirogane. Shiro’s strong, but not that strong, and he finds himself grabbing his phone from the nightstand to check the public rankings on the simulator runs.

 _Keith Kogane_ is plastered across the first place spots; Shiro’s name sits right under it.

Shiro remembers what he was like when he made those scores. He knew what he wanted, and he was ready to leave everyone and everything behind to get it. He was ready to leave all of Earth behind. That’s what you need to be a career pilot for the Garrison—the complete certainty that the mission is what matters most.

This is who Keith is.

Dancing comes second. Shiro comes second. Everything comes second to the call of the stars.

Shiro knows this, because he’s lived it. Could he live with someone who feels the same?

He idly scrolls through the press section, looking for any glimpse of Keith’s name. _Senior Officer Kogane_ , he’s called in all the official statements, and Shiro finds pictures of him standing at attention in the olive-gray officers’ uniform.

If there’s any consolation, it’s that Keith looks wholly uncomfortable in all of them. The uniform doesn’t suit him nearly as well as the outfits he wears on the dance floor. There, the atmosphere settles over him like a second skin. In these pictures, he looks like he stands a space apart.

He switches over to the internal communications section of the website that they never ended up removing his access to. There’s an announcement about the upcoming mission to Kerberos that doesn’t mention Keith’s name in the title or the blurb, but Shiro clicks on it anyway, remembering what Adam said.

_Assessments for available pilot positions for mission IC-680120 to Kerberos have been rescheduled to **December 15** due to required maintenance._

_Simulation exercises:  
\- SA-1203  
\- SA-4410  
\- DA-3432  
_

_Participants are required to remain on base from 0800-1700 pending follow-up evaluations._

December 15th.

The date of the convention.

It’s a mistake, right? Shiro checks the bulletin again, and then checks his calendar, and then pulls up the website for the convention just to check the schedule even though it’s already been ingrained into his mind.

December 15th, December 15th, December 15th.

Fuck.

He can’t—Keith can’t possibly make it to both. It’s not possible, especially not if he has to stay all day. And if Keith really is this rising star of a career pilot, if he really is ready to take on everything, if he really is everything Adam and all these rankings and all these articles say he is—

He can’t pass up this opportunity. Shiro knows from first-hand experience that he can’t.

Shiro turns his phone off and gets out of bed to take a shower. It does nothing. The heat of it makes his heart race faster, so he turns down the temperature, but shivering doesn’t help either. It just makes him feel cold, inside and out.

He tries to do everything except think about it, but just by doing that he’s thinking about it. He makes breakfast. He does the dishes. He cleans the bathroom. He watches TV.

Nothing helps.

He takes out his phone and stares at it. He should—he should message Keith. They should talk about this. He shouldn’t just assume that Keith’s already decided that this mission is more important, even if Shiro thinks the answer is clear. He should get Keith’s perspective.

But that’s pressure. And he’s already sworn to himself that he’d never pressure anyone to give up anything, not after the hurt those actions have put him through.

It’s not Keith’s fault that the Garrison’s pulled a last-minute schedule switch. It’s not Keith’s fault that he hasn’t figured out how to break that news to Shiro yet.

It’s not Keith’s fault.

And he’s not going to be the one to make Keith choose between Shiro and his dreams.

Shiro turns over the phone in his hands, and turns it back on. He isn’t sure how to talk about this with Keith, but he doesn’t think he has the fortitude to do it in person.

There’s a text from Keith waiting for him, following up on a conversation that seems like a lifetime ago— _hey, we still on for tonight?_

Shiro takes a breath, gathers his courage, and makes the call.

* * *

The conversation goes about as well as a conversation like this could go.

Keith doesn’t say much when Shiro says he’s dropping from the competition, and he’s sorry for wasting five months of Keith’s time, but he won’t take up any more of it.

Keith just gives a quiet, _oh_. He doesn’t challenge him, fight him, make any demands.

Shiro’s relieved by it, honestly. He doesn’t think he could make it through an argument without picking at old wounds that he’s cauterized by fire, without getting emotional and making Keith feel guilty for his identity and his dreams.

But some part of him wishes that Keith had argued. Because as relieving as it is to be able to walk away from the call feeling like he’d done the right thing for both of them, he still desperately wishes that things had gone the other way, that Keith would push back and fight and throw away everything he has just to be with Shiro again.

But that’s not reality, and he guesses Adam’s right about another thing, after all.

It’s past time for Shiro to stop deluding himself.

So he moves on.

It should be easy, Shiro thinks, because he and Keith had never solidified being a _thing_ in the first place. They were just dancing around the idea. Dancing around each other. The conversation last night was only a first step, but it never actually entered the realm of a real relationship.

It wasn’t real, so it shouldn’t hurt.

He deletes Keith’s number from his phone, but he can’t bring himself to delete the messages. He lets them sit, haunting him, but he doesn’t look at them. He’s about to cancel his private lessons for the week, but he stops himself before he can send the message.

No.

This all started because he couldn’t cope, and everyone could see that. This time he’ll show them that he’s learned better. He can do better. He can move on.

So he moves on.

He shows up for all of his privates. He stops going to Marmora, but he keeps going to the Black Lion.

No one asks after Keith the first week. It’s not like Keith was a regular before; it’s only natural that he’d miss a week here and there. Just because Shiro’s showing up every week doesn’t mean that Keith has to.

But late in the night on the second week, people are starting to throw him curious looks, and no one says anything, but Shiro knows everyone’s thinking it.

Then Adam starts hovering next to him while Shiro’s refilling his water bottle.

“I know you’re not here to ask me to dance,” Shiro says.

“What is wrong with you,” Adam says.

Shiro inhales, exhales.

Fuck it.

“You were right,” he says. “I never really got over you and I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. Keith and I were never really a thing, he just saw how upset I was so he pretended so I could rub it in your face. We were only ever going to compete so I could prove I was all right. I’m not all right, and we’re not competing anymore. Happy now?”

“Between that dramatic speech and the way Kogane is moping all over the Garrison, I’m assuming things have ended between you,” Adam says. “Did you break up with him?”

“There was no breaking up involved,” Shiro says, “because there was nothing there to begin with.”

Adam says nothing, and Shiro turns away and finishes refilling his bottle. He’s screwing the cap back on when Adam says, “How long have we known each other, now?”

Shiro sighs and leans against the wall. “I don’t know. Ten years, almost. Why does that matter?”

“A decade,” Adam says. “That’s a long time.”

“Can you get to the point?”

“My point is that that’s bullshit,” Adam says.

“What?”

“I’ve known you for a decade,” Adam says. “We were in love for a fair bit of that, if you haven’t forgotten. I know you well enough to know that, whatever that was you had going on with Kogane, it didn’t look like _nothing_ to me.”

“Guess you need to get your prescription checked then.”

“Takashi,” Adam says. “I’m sorry for bringing Kogane’s work at the Garrison up to you in the way that I did. I thought I was helping you by making sure you knew all the facts of the situation. I see now that that was a mistake.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Shiro says. “You were right. I should have known about all of that, and I didn’t. I was jumping in without using my head, like always. You were right about everything. So, thanks.”

Shiro moves to leave, but Adam puts out an arm to stop him.

“Takashi,” Adam says again, and he sounds frustrated. “Can you get it in your stupid, thick head that I still care about you and I’m not just here to make your life miserable?”

Shiro doesn’t look at him, and he clenches his fists because he can feel himself getting emotional and this is neither the time nor place for it. “No,” he says, “I can’t.”

“The way things ended between us,” Adam says, lowering his voice. “I didn’t want it to be like that.”

“I lost you since the moment I got back from Kerberos,” Shiro says quietly. “Sometimes I think it would’ve been better if I’d never come back.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Adam says sharply. “That wasn’t how it happened at all, and you know it. I wasn’t the right person for you. I still care for you, but I couldn’t give you everything that you needed. I still can’t. And I’ve been hoping that someday you would find someone better for you than I was. Kogane’s good for you. Don’t give up on him.”

Shiro stares straight ahead. Something about what Adam’s saying, this sudden change of tact—there’s something there that doesn’t quite fit. “Have you been talking to him?”

“I have.”

Shiro clenches his fists more tightly. This is not Adam’s place. It is not. “Didn’t I tell you to stay out of it?”

“He came to me,” Adam says. “He wanted to make sure you were okay, and he thought I’d be the best person to find out the truth. And what I’m seeing is that you’re not okay, and that he honestly cares for you. Deeply. So give him a chance.”

“I gave him his chance,” Shiro says, “and it didn’t work out. Let it go, Adam. Please.”

Adam’s arm drops. “Fine. But if you ever want to talk, I’ll be here.”

Shiro nods sharply, then turns and heads back into the ballroom. It’s suddenly too dark, and too loud, and there are too many people, and he grabs his bag and stumbles out to his car without even changing his shoes.

* * *

Shiro is not-moping in his apartment when there’s a knock at the door.

He’s not expecting anyone, and his heart lifts with a stupid, nonsensical feeling that it’s Keith, come to talk to him. He identifies the feeling as hope when it shatters as he pulls open the door to see Pidge standing on the other side.

Shiro glances down at his boxers. “Uh—”

Pidge pushes her way in. “Like I didn’t see you and Matt running all over the house in your underwear all the time. I’m not staying long. I have the practice video, from Ryan. Well, from Matt, from Ryan. Matt said he already submitted it to the WSDC for you.”

“Oh,” Shiro says as she shoves a flash drive at him. “Um.”

He hadn’t told Matt or Pidge about exactly what happened between him and Keith, assuming that Keith would have told them himself, but it’s possible that he hadn’t.

“Keith told us,” Pidge says, “but I thought you might want it anyway.”

Holts, meddling again. Shiro can’t find the heart to be upset about it.

“Thanks for bringing it over,” Shiro says, closing it in his hands. “Is he… okay?”

Pidge evaluates him for a moment, then something in her seems to relax. “He’s okay. He hasn’t said anything bad about you, if that’s what you’re worried about. But he did say you broke up with him over the phone. What kind of dick breaks up with someone over the phone?”

“The kind that never really figured out how relationships work?” Shiro says weakly. He runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I know that’s not an excuse for anything. Just. Let him know that if he ever wants to talk…”

“That goes for you, too,” Pidge says.

“Yeah.”

Pidge doesn’t stay for long; just long enough to use the bathroom before she heads out again. She hesitates on the doorstep, and before she leaves, she says, “I think you should watch it.”

Then she’s gone.

Shiro turns the flash drive over in his hand. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since they’d filmed it. It feels like it’d be a mistake to watch it now—an unpleasant and too-soon reminder of what could have been.

But he misses, and he wants.

He’s pulled out his laptop and is plugging in the flash drive before he thinks too hard about it. There are only two files inside, one titled _FOR WSDC_ and one titled _FOR YOU_.

Shiro opens the _FOR YOU_ video. He recognizes the song immediately—they were just warming up, so they’d put his library on shuffle and gave themselves the freedom to just mess around. The song that popped up didn’t have a great beat for West Coast Swing—more of a two-step—but Keith was always into playing with any kind of music.

_Take my hand, I’ll teach you to dance  
I’ll spin you around, won’t let you fall down  
Would you let me lead? You can step on my feet  
Give it a try, it’ll be alright_

He smiles as he sees his own uncertainty, mouth moving as he relays to Keith that this song isn’t going to be great practice, and Keith—switching his position effortlessly so that he’s leading instead, guiding them into more of a rhythmic exploration and play than anything actually resembling a structured dance.

Which makes sense, really, given Keith’s background.

_The room’s hush hush and now’s our moment  
Take it in, feel it all and hold it  
Eyes on you, eyes on me  
We’re doing this right_

They’re smiling so wide in the video that Shiro can feel the echoes of their joy in his chest.

But it hurts.

This happiness is what he chose to let go of, and it’s for the best, and he should stop watching this now before it takes him somewhere he doesn’t want to go, but—

But.

_’Cause lovers dance when they’re feeling in love  
Spotlight’s shining, it’s all about us  
It’s all about us  
And every heart in the room will melt  
This is a feeling I’ve never felt but  
It’s all about us_

Shiro can’t turn away from the video, and he can’t turn it off. He’s never been able to look away from Keith dancing, and watching Keith dancing with him—

He’s free.

In every spin, in every turn, in every slide and touch of their bodies and the way they played off each other, Shiro’s free.

This is what he dances for. Not for the competitions, not for the wins, not for being better than anyone else, but this—the thrill of movement, and of finding joy and music and love in someone else’s arms.

He dances, here, for Keith.

_Suddenly, I’m feeling brave  
I don’t know what’s got into me, why I feel this way  
Can we dance real slow?  
Can I hold you, can I hold you close?_

In the video, Shiro steals the lead back from Keith, and laughs as Keith immediately takes the opportunity to send himself into a dramatic turn, complete with a dramatic whip of his hair. He immediately grins at Shiro, as if for approval, and Shiro grins back at him and leans in close before sending him off again.

The sheer joy of it makes Shiro smile reflexively.

It also makes him want to cry.

_Do you hear that, love?  
They’re playing our song  
Do you think we’re ready yet?  
Oh I’m really feeling it_

They’ve broken away from each other now, dancing apart up and down the floor, keeping a close eye on each other so that they can stay synchronized as they dance freely around each other.

_Do you hear that, love?  
Do you hear that, love?_

And then they draw closer together—closer and closer, magnetized the same way that Shiro feels magnetized to watching them on the screen.

He’s in love. He’s so, so in love. The feeling that grips him now is one that he felt all the time around Keith, one that he’d held close because he couldn’t dream of letting it go.

But, in the end, letting it go was exactly what he did.

_‘Cause lovers dance when they’re feeling in love  
Spotlight’s shining, it’s all about us  
It’s all about us_

They’re together again, Shiro taking the lead this time as he twirls Keith around. In a usual social dance setting, it’s important to stick to your slot; otherwise you run the risk of bumping into other people.

But now they’re all over the room, playing with all the space available to them. Now it’s just them—just them and the music and the connection that still makes Shiro’s heart sing.

_Every heart in the room will melt  
This is a feeling I’ve never felt but  
It’s all  
It’s all about us_

Shiro flings Keith into a dramatic dip at the end, and both of them just hold it for a moment, breathing hard and grinning at each other. The Shiro in the video whips Keith up and they give a playful, dramatic bow to the camera before Keith pulls himself into Shiro’s arms and hugs him, soundly.

Eventually they move again, and the video Shiro comes to the camera and turns it off.

But Shiro’s not paying much attention to it, because his mind is still stuck on that image before—of them dancing and hugging and smiling and looking like they had both won the entire universe.

Shiro knows, for certain, that he’s made a huge mistake.


	7. Chapter 7

Shiro’s never really thought about what it would feel like to step foot on Garrison grounds again.

He probably should have thought about it; or, at least, the security aspect of it. He’s already driven all the way to the outer gate before he realizes that he doesn’t have a badge or any reason at all for them to let him in.

He rolls his window down as the security guard approaches, frantically thinking of plausible excuses he could give.

There’s a honk from behind him, and the guard looks over, then walks toward the Garrison vehicle instead. Shiro looks through his rearview mirror, but between the tint and the glare on the windshield, he can’t make out the driver at all.

The guard returns after a moment and says, “Make sure you stay behind this time.”

The gate opens, and the car behind Shiro drives through. Shiro has no idea what’s happening, but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity. He shifts the car into gear and trails the Garrison vehicle into the parking lot.

Of course, it’s Adam who gets out of the car.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Adam says as he shuts the door.

“Same to you.” Shiro frowns at him. “Don’t you have a convention to be at?”

“I’m picking my partner up,” Adam says with a smirk. “I’m assuming you’re doing the same?”

“I’m dropping out,” Shiro says. “But if you know where I can find Keith... ”

Adam studies him for a moment, and then he smiles, soft and small in a way Shiro hasn’t seen in a long time. “I’m happy for you.”

Shiro sniffs away the wetness in his eyes and shoulders past him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“When have I ever?” Adam says. He falls into step. “You’re lucky I found you. I’m not sure how far you’d get otherwise.”

Shiro laughs. “I didn’t really think things through, did I?”

Adam smiles at him. “You usually don’t.”

The paths they walk are tinted with nostalgia. Traces of it pick at his brain, but they don’t linger long enough in any one place for him to really feel it.

It’s strange.

There’s a lot of it that he feels like he misses; memories that exist in a room, or on the steps of a building, or on a bench under a tree.

But at the same time, he doesn’t miss it at all.

Adam leads him to the observation deck of the main simulation room, and stops right outside the door. “Takashi.”

Shiro looks at him in question.

Adam’s smiling as he puts his badge against the door. “Don’t mess this up.”

The door opens.

The admiralty’s there, all suited up as they watch the current simulation run. Shiro’s eyes fly to the logs and numbers on the side of the screen, scanning them by reflex. The pilot’s performance is all right, but not great. Not Keith, if he’s half as good as Adam claims.

“Shirogane,” Iverson says in surprise, and Shiro turns to him. “Well, I’ll be damned. What are you doing here?”

Iverson’s eyes slide over to Adam, and Adam shifts in response, but another voice interrupts before he can speak.

“He’s with me.”

It’s Keith who’s risen from one of the chairs of the observation deck. He’s wearing the senior officer’s uniform, and he’s holding a tablet in one hand that he sets down on the console as he stands.

“Is he now,” Iverson says, looking between the two of them.

“Permission to step out, sir?” Keith says.

Iverson waves him off. “You weren’t even going to be here in the first place.”

Keith salutes and drags Shiro out of the room.

Shiro frowns behind them. “What did he mean, you weren’t going to be here?”

Keith frowns at him. “The convention,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why are you here?”

“I—” Shiro looks behind them again, at the rapidly-vanishing door to the observation deck. “What about Kerberos?”

“What _about_ Kerberos?” Keith says as they step into the open air.

“Shouldn’t you be flying?”

Keith’s eyebrows crease. “I’ve been flying. They’ve been evaluating me the whole year. Today's assessments is just for seconds. I—Shiro.” Keith’s face is dawning horror now, and Shiro thinks his is too, because what does it mean, if Keith’s already been evaluated? If Iverson thought he wasn’t even going to be here today?

“Shiro,” Keith says quietly, “Why did you end things?”

“I thought—” And Shiro cuts himself off, because that’s it. That’s the crux of it. “I thought a lot of things. And I thought about it all in the wrong way, without talking to you about any of it. I didn’t ask anything. I didn’t let you explain anything. I just assumed, and then I messed everything up, and I am so, so sorry. None of it was you. It was just me getting stuck in my own head.”

Keith smiles wryly. “It’s not you, it’s me?”

“I thought it was for the best,” Shiro says, clenching his hands together.

“Why?”

“I guess… I thought I already knew what would happen.”

Keith reaches out and takes his hands, pulling Shiro over to sit with him on a bench. The stone is cold under him, but Keith’s hands are warm when they squeeze his. “Start from the beginning.”

Shiro’s quiet for a long moment.

“I looked you up, after Adam told me about you,” Shiro says. “Then I saw on the Garrison bulletins about the flight assessments being rescheduled, and I just—started thinking about all the ways that we wouldn’t work. So I thought, better to save us both the pain.”

“You could’ve asked,” Keith says, quietly.

“You have your own life here, your own dreams,” Shiro says. “I remember being in your shoes, and having to make choices about all the things I was giving up. I didn’t want you to have to make the choice, so I thought this would be easiest.”

“Giving up on us was the easiest?” Keith says mildly. “It’s not either-or, Shiro.”

“I know,” Shiro says. “I did it because it was scared, and not because it was the right thing to do. I wasn’t thinking straight. That’s why I’m here now.”

He takes a deep breath. “I told you, already, about me and the Garrison. They said I could stay and teach, as long as I didn’t talk about… all that. Adam thought it’d be good for me, but I didn’t think I could handle being here and knowing they’d never let me up there again. So I left.”

Keith is silent, but he’s listening, his hand squeezing Shiro’s in quiet reassurance.

Shiro looks down at their joined hands. “I don’t think Adam ever got over that. I don’t know if he ever believed me about the alien, but he definitely wanted me to stop talking about it and stop with this whole dancing phase and just get back to having a real job again. I think the moment he realized I was never coming back was the moment it all started falling apart.”

“You thought I’d think that too?” Keith says.

“I know you’re not him,” Shiro says, which he knows isn’t an answer.

Keith knows it too, judging from his expression. He leans back against the stone. “Can I tell you a story now?”

Shiro nods.

“My dad was in an accident, my junior year of high school,” Keith says. “He was in a coma for two years. It was really, really fucking hard trying to make it without him. I was barely here for a month before I started thinking about dropping out.” He squeezes Shiro’s hand. “Then I got this letter. Turns out, my scholarship was one of the ones endowed by an individual, and this guy wrote letters to each of his recipients.”

Shiro’s heart pounds.

“He had a lot of practical advice,” Keith goes on, “but he also talked about some of the ways he wore off stress, like cliff-jumping hoverbikes way out in the desert where the Garrison can’t see, and social dancing—“

“Please tell me you didn’t cliff-jump,” Shiro says hoarsely.

Keith just smiles. “I thought one night of dancing couldn’t hurt. Then I was there every night, for the rest of the school year. That’s how I made my first friend at the Garrison. First few friends, actually. Without them, I think—no, I know I wouldn’t have even made it through the first semester, much less through graduation. I owe them a lot for that. And I owe you a lot.”

Shiro looks down as Keith laces their fingers together and squeezes tight.

“You saved my life,” Keith says. “I’m not saying that lightly. My life would be… a whole lot different, if you hadn’t sent me that letter.”

“It was just words.”

“Your words,” Keith says. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to meet you just to be able to say thanks. I kind of hoped I’d run into you at the dance by the Garrison, but—I guess I understand why you’d want to avoid that one.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Shiro says. “When we first met, did you already know who I was?”

Keith hesitates, and he sounds unsure when he says, “I did. I don’t know if this is selfish, but I guess I felt like, back then, it wouldn’t have meant anything to you. I really would’ve just been saying it for me, so that I could feel good about finally being able to tell you. I wanted to wait until you would feel good about hearing it.”

“Well,” Shiro says, “I think you picked a good time.”

“Are you sure?” Keith says. “You sound sad.”

“Do I?”

“Your voice is shaking. And—” Keith wiggles his fingers where Shiro’s clenching them between his own.

Shiro takes a deep, shaky breath and loosens his grip. “Emotional doesn’t always mean sad.”

“What does it mean right now?”

“You saved me,” Shiro says simply. “The night we first danced. After—After Adam and I broke up, it was like all of my joy went with him. I thought I’d be happy he was gone, that I could dance however and whenever I wanted, but I was just miserable instead. And then you were there, and with just one dance you made me remember what it was like to feel in love again.”

“With dancing?”

“And with you.” Shiro looks up and smiles at Keith’s tentative expression. “I love you. I loved you from the start, and I haven’t stopped. I don’t think I can.”

“It hurt, when you ended things like that,” Keith whispers. “It hurt a lot.”

“I know.” Shiro squeezes his hand. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I know it might take some time for you to forgive me, but—”

Keith squeezes back. “I already have.”

Shiro’s heart is fluttering in his throat again—and this is the good fluttering, breathless and hopeful and _happy_. “Still, let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

“Anything you want,” Shiro says. “Fancy dinner, hoverbike date. I’ll say that it’s been a while since I’ve been on a hoverbike, so if you want to cliff-jump, the chances of injury are high.”

Keith snorts a laugh. “Have a little more faith in yourself, old man. I’ve seen your sim replays. Muscle memory’s pretty strong. But no, I think I have a better idea. Did you drive here?”

“Yeah?”

“What time is it?”

Shiro pulls out his phone and shows him the screen.

Keith looks at the phone, then looks at him critically. Quicker than Shiro can blink, he reaches up a hand, cupping the back of Shiro’s head and pulling him in for a brief, hard kiss.

Shiro blinks, dazed, as Keith leans back. He touches his lips. He’s not complaining, but— “What was that for?”

“For good luck.” Keith stands, stretching, then turns toward the direction of the parking lot. “Now come on. We’ve got a competition to win.”

_Without you, I feel broke  
Like I’m half of a whole  
Without you, I’ve got no hand to hold  
Without you, I feel torn  
Like a sail in a storm  
Without you, I’m just a sad song_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[credits song]** [(fic playlist)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0bnB893HUoqu2eEFMqJrzf?si=KpsdlExMQMymOmnatBsXOQ)  
> sad song (feat. olivia holt) - RJ Remix — we the kings, olivia holt
> 
> \----
> 
> **[after credits]**
> 
> **keith:** by the way, my mom says sorry about the fuel. she didn't think it'd react like that.
> 
>  **shiro:** your mom says what
> 
>  **keith:** there's, like, weird intergalactic principles about this whole alien reveal thing? so she has to wait for the warp drive project to finish before she can make any official statements, but she's really sorry about everything and she says she'll make it up to you after.
> 
>  **shiro:** keith who is your mother
> 
> \----
> 
> a huge and special thank you to the following!!  
> \- sharki, for your love and support and enthusiasm for this au  
> \- allie, for helping me make sure everything going on here actually makes sense  
> \- heart hotel, for being awesome, always—i wouldn't have made it without you all
> 
> and thank you so much for reading! ♥  
> i love, appreciate, and reply to all comments, even if it takes me a little while to get to them :)
> 
> catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ailurea)!


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